For Beauty is Found Within
by hestia273
Summary: What if Belle was sold off to the French Court to marry Gaston? What if Quasimodo was secretly the heir to the French throne, hidden away because of his beastly form? What if the curse impacted all of France? Read on and find out. Belle x Quasimodo, Rated T for mild violence.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney or Victor Hugo

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young King lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the King was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the King sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.

The King tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. As punishment she cursed him, declaring that his firstborn would suffer for his actions and reflect outwardly what the King had in his heart, and his kingdom would suffer until the sins of the father were forgiven by the child. Years later, when the child was born, his body was twisted cruelly and his features were a horror to behold.  
Ashamed of his monstrous form, the King concealed his son inside a faraway manor with only a tutor, Claude Frollo, to watch the creature and teach him about the harsh world outside, and to keep him ignorant of his true heritage. The King told the kingdom that the prince died in childbirth, so that no one would know the true heir lived. They named him Quasimodo, which meant "half-formed." The boy suffered under Claude Frollo, and yearned for someone to love and to earn their love in return.

One night, the Enchantress returned to the child, and taking pity on him gave him the same rose she had offered him father, which was truly an enchanted rose. She promised him then, that when the last petal of the rose fell, if he was pure of heart and could forgive those who had hurt him and learn to love regardless, the spell would be broken. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?/span/p


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo

"Belle, would you please look at me when I'm talking to you? Please get your nose out of that god forsaken literature."

Belle glanced up at her mama as the carriage jolted, and placed the novel onto her lap. "I'm sorry mama, it's just, it's the most wonderful story, about a beanstalk, and an Ogre, and-"

"That's enough, ma Cherie. You have more important things to think of today. You know this is our only chance to get out of that provincial life your father left us with when he died."

Belle looked away. The thought of her papa's death still stung bitterly, even though it had been almost two years ago. In that time, her mother had used her old connections at court to make some sort of bargain with the King. In other words, sell off her daughter for a life of luxury.

"Now, what is Prince Gaston's favorite hobby?"

"Hunting" Belle replied with an obvious note of disgust.

"Precisely, and you'll take care to mask that tone I trust when you have tea with his Highness."

Belle only stared out the window. She had remembered her mama talking about her old life at court when she was a child, and she had loved the stories of balls, princes, and how her mama gave it all up for true love to a humble inventor, her papa. Apparently though she hadn't quite given it all up, and pined for her old life, enough to arrange a possible chance of courtship with the Crown Prince, Gaston, by selling all of papa's things. She could barely stomach the thought of it all.

"We're almost to the palace. Remember all I have taught you and you shall do well, pet."

"Yes mama."

"Imagine - my daughter, Queen of France!" She glanced at Belle. "Or consort to the King. Whatever works, my darling." Belle noticed that even though her mama patted hand while saying this, she was mostly saying it to herself. She wondered what had become of the compassionate mama she had grown up with, and pitied the power-lust woman before her. Her papa's death had been hard for them both, but whereas Belle grieved every day, her mama had turned into a veritable ice queen.

"Yes, mama."

Belle was surprised they were so fortunate really. The kingdom in general had been in a terrible state since a few years before her birth. Her parents, even with mama's connections, had to scrap and save for every last penny, and most of it went towards her papa's inventions. Occasionally they purchased something for pleasure, but objects of leisure were hard to come by in an economically devastated country that no other kingdoms would trade with.

When papa had passed away, her mother lost all her warmth and love. She became, cold, calculating, and practical to the point she decided to sell off her daughter to the highest bidder, which happened to be the King. Supposedly, at least from what her mama told her, the King remembered tales of Belle's beauty from a visit through their town, but Belle had a sneaking suspicion her mama paid for the prince to see her daughter, which became more likely when she discovered a set of missing pearls from her mama's jewelry box.

She smoothed out the tulle of her mother's old dress she was wearing, to look more like the "fashionable" ladies of the court, but she personally thought it was terribly itchy and she wondered how these ladies managed to breathe or do anything while drowning in all of these insufferable ruffles.

"Belle, stop fidgeting!" Lady Lefevre snapped. "We're at the palace gates. You will be the epitome of grace, poise, and beauty from this point onwards until you get some sort of promise of seeing the Prince again. Do you understand?"

Belle sighed, and put on a mask of meek, unassuming benevolence while inwardly screaming.

"Yes, mama."

The carriage rattled as they crossed the drawbridge, then came to a halting stop that almost threw Belle from her seat onto the floor of the cramped carriage. Her mama gave her a piercing glare, then became all smiles as a footman opened the door and helped her down. Belle smoothed her hair and skirts one final time before taking a deep breath, and departing from the relative safety of the carriage.

"Madame and Mademoiselle Lefevre, it is an absolute pleasure," said a powdered courtier who met them there, bowing so low Belle though his hat would topple right off of what was assuredly a wig. "The King sends his welcome, and it is always a pleasure for such lovely ladies to pay us the privilege of a visit here at this dull court."

"Sir Dupont, it has been too long." Madam Lefevre flourished out a hand so that Dupont might kiss it, and then Belle did the same, trying very hard to suppress the shudder that crawled up her spine as Dupont's slimy lips brushed against the skin of her hand.

"Well, no time to dally. Madam, will you be so kind as to join me and a few others courtiers in a light afternoon tea? And of course, Mademoiselle, we have not forgotten about you! Lady Girardeau here, a former lady's maid of the Queen, God rest her soul, shall escort you to the conservatory where you and His Highness shall take your tea."

Belle glanced at the exquisite lady in a stunning but simple green dress, and immediately felt silly in her circus tent of ruffles. "If you'll follow me, mademoiselle."

As they made their way through the hall of the palace, Belle found herself stunned and stopping along the way to admire the beauty of the palace. Sweeping marble arches lined corridors swathed in light blue silk, with windows that looked out onto sprawling grounds.

"The palace is stunning, is it not?" said Lady Girardeau with a note of amusement in her voice.

Belle, brought back to reality, replied "Y-yes! It's very lavish, I suppose. I wouldn't really know. But it is beautiful, especially the classic architecture, the flying buttresses and all."

Lady Girardeau turned and arched an eyebrow at her. "A scholar, are you?"

"Well, not really, though I want to be if I could choose my own way. But that's not the way of ladies I've been told." Belle inwardly cursed and bit the inside of her cheek. She knew that ladies never spoke this way, but her curiosity and strong opinions usually came out before practicality could control her tongue. It wasn't such a bad trait in their little town, where the townspeople only looked at her oddly. Here though, it could be social suicide.

"No, not here at least." Lady Girardeau turned away, but then stopped and faced Belle straight on. "Mademoiselle…if I may be so bold...I feel as if I should warn you."

Puzzled, Belle stopped short and asked "Warn me of what?"

"It's…." she leaned in closer to Belle, and whispered "It's the prince, he's….he may not be what you expect. But it is in your best interest to do _exactly_ what he tells you to do. Go along with whatever demands he makes. You're very pretty, he's sure to like you. But don't get any ideas."

Belle nodded, but she wasn't quite sure what Lady Girardeau was trying to imply, or why she looked so nervous. She must have taken Belle's nod for assent, and she turned on her heel and said not a word until they reached the conservatory.

"Good luck." Lady Girardeau whispered as she departed. Belle gulped nervously, and the stepped onto the threshold to be announced.

"Presenting Mademoiselle Belle Mignonette Lefevre for tea with his Highness, Crown Prince Gaston Laroux Montague Valois, heir to the throne of the Kingdom of France!"

Belle kept her demure gaze on the bottom of her skirt, but as the sound of heavy footfalls came closer and closer, her gaze slipped upwards and landed upon the most handsome man she had ever beheld.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all! Sorry for not posting for a while, I just got back from an international trip. Also, a bit of a warning for this chapter, things get uncomfortable and slightly abusive. Gaston is a total creep, so I wrote him as such. It's nothing too bad, but it's still real and I felt I needed to warn you. I hope you enjoy though!

Disclaimer: Everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.

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"Mademoiselle" said a low, deep sultry voice that sent shivers up Belle's spine. The Prince was more handsome than she had imagined, built like Apollo with delicately curling black hair and chiseled features. Yet a small voice in the back of Belle's head, the one that she knew was never wrong, took note of the coldness in his brilliant blue eyes.

"Your Highness." She replied, giving him a low curtsy worthy of his station. He stood facing her, and as she lifted her face, his mouth twisted into an odd smile. He gestured towards the table laid out in a splendid array of fairy cakes and tiny sandwiches, and a manservant was busily preparing the tea. Belle's heart thudded in her chest as she took the Prince's offered arm as they made their way to the intimate setting.

They sat down, and Belle tried her very best to appear the delicate beauty her mother had groomed her to be over the last year. The manservant set a cup of fine china with white roses painted on it in front of her, and poured in the steaming tea. Enticed by the gentle, unfamiliar aroma, she softly asked the manservant, "Pardon me, but what variety of tea is this? It smells absolutely exquisite."

"Green tea from the Qing, mademoiselle, we-"but then Prince Gaston harrumphed and gave him a sharp glare, and the manservant gave a small bow and left the room quickly.

Belle, puzzled, looked over to the Prince who was scowling into his own cup. "Blasted tasteless drink, I can't stand the thing." He poured the contents of the cup into a nearby hibiscus, and pulled a flask out of his jacket. Belle was immediately taken aback. No prince in the fairy tales she had read would act in such as manner in front of a lady, even a lady of a lower station. Prince Gaston turned his cold glare to her after taking a large swig from the flask. "No lady I know of would inquire to the help also, a lady worth anything would know how to treat the lowly - ignoring their existence." He took another swig, and chuckled darkly. "Or perhaps punishing them when necessary. Hell, even when it's not necessary. Things get so boring here."

She realized then that he was already drunk, probably even before the tea began. He was looking at Belle in an odd sort of appraising way that made her feel vastly uncomfortable, so she looked away and took a long drink of the exotic tea without tasting it. "But you're prettier than most here, even in that God awful dress, so I'm prepared to forgive you."

Not even sure what she was being forgiven for, she still nodded and reached out take one of the small sandwiches. The prince however snatched her hand in midair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Why don't you come over and sit with me?"

Belle remembered the words of the lady in waiting, so silently she stood up and started to move her chair. "No no no, not like that." Prince Gaston said, and with a cold crooked smile he patted his lap.

Belle was in utter shock, but silently she moved and sat down on the very edge of his lap, her face burning with shame. "Now that's better, isn't it?" the prince said. He took another swig, and offered it too Belle. She still remembered Lady Girardeau's warning, but she wasn't sure how much more indignity she could stand. She still took the flask though, and took a tiny sip of the burning alcohol.

However, when Prince Gaston went to wrap his arms around her waist and went in to kiss her neck, that was just too far. She leapt up off his lap, tripped, and fell over, shattering a potted flower in the process. She brushed the dirt off her dress as she stood up, and said shakily "If you'll excuse me sir, I was not expecting to be treated in such a manner. I must beg your pardon, your Highness, and be on my way."

But Prince Gaston was already on his feet, and as Belle turned to leave he slammed her against the nearest wall and pinned her against it. She stared horrified, frozen in fear as he leered at her and said "You wouldn't say no to your future King, would you? Your beauty has been brought up by many here, and you surely are the loveliest maiden I've ever met, the best by far. And don't I _deserve_ the best?"

He went in to kiss her, but she turned her head so his harsh lips only grazed her face. He tried again and again, but each time Belle craned her head away from him.

"You _will_ be mine, make no mistake of that!" he growled at her, and he made a motion as if to lift up her dress. Belle had had enough. Prince or no, she would not lower herself for the sake of power or wealth. She would not sacrifice her morals for this oaf!

She ducked out under his arms as he made his way to try to kiss her again, and ran for the doors.

"GUARDS! Seize that wench!"

Belle ran through the twisting corridors, their beauty suffocating now as she stumbled through the gaudy hallways. But as she turned the corner, three burly guards blocked her way, and they threw her roughly to the ground. Pain jolted up her spine, and she barely had time to register it before she was harshly pulled upwards and held firmly by two of the guards.

Prince Gaston strode out of the conservatory, stumbling ever so slightly as he walked up to Belle and clutched her chin tightly to force her face up to his. He kissed her roughly, his breath tasting foul from the spirits, and in a menacingly soft voice said "Take her to the dungeons, and if she does not agree to come to my bed by the end of the day, have her killed. If I can't have her, then _no one_ will. Now go."

And with that, the guards marched her down into the depths of the castle, and pushed Belle into a filthy dungeon just as she began to let herself cry.

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Please review and let me know what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi folks! This chapter is a bit shorter, I know, but there's a two-for-one deal going on this week and I'll be posting the next chapter Thursday!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo**

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"Don't look at me that way, Madame!" the King said as he paced the room. "We made a deal, and I've upheld my part of the bargain! It's not my fault your daughter displeased my son so much he threw her in the dungeons!"

Madame Lefevre, Sir Dupont, and the King were locked in the King's study together, puzzling over a way to fix this little disaster in their midst.

"She is just a girl! I made sure she knew what to do though, and no, our bargain was a _marriage_ , not a night in the dungeons! My daughter _will_ marry royalty, you will not go back on your word, not now!"

The King kept pacing. He growled "We made that bargain in dire circumstances, madam, and my kingdom is no better for it. You told me all those years ago that so long as your child would one day marry royally, all that wealth you gave up to marry that silly inventor would be mine to save my kingdom. And has it madam?! I think not."

"You are still the king!" She spat in his face. "Your word is law. I've lived in squalor for too long to fail now!" She took a deep breath, paused, and then glanced back at the king, reaching out to rub his arm soothingly. "We were close, once. You remember?"

He gave her look that was part despair, part passion. "I do." He said softly. Sir Dupont coughed and looked away.

With her eyes cast down demurely, she coaxed "Then to honor those times, shouldn't we join our families now, since we couldn't back then?"

He sighed, still unsure, when Dupont cleared his throat and after a pause, said "What about your firstborn?"

Madame Lefevre gave him a withering look. "We already tried that, you dunce. He threw her in a dungeon, and I highly doubt my silly daughter will bed him to solve this whole -"

"No," said the King, cutting her off and looking at Dupont. "Not that. The girl deserves a life, not that bitter fate."

"Gaston will still want her punished more than likely if she won't be his. This would uphold your bargain and appease the prince" Dupont drawled, pouring himself a glass of wine.

Madame Lefevre, putting her hands on her hips and staring at the two men, said pointedly "Now what one earth are the two of you going on about?"

The King sighed again, sliding a hand across his face as he fell into his chair behind the lacquered desk. "Angelique, you may want to take a seat for this."

She promptly did, as did Dupont while he distractedly swirled his glass of wine. The King stared at her intensely, and said "What I'm about to say does _not_ leave this room, on pain of death. _Do you understand?_ "

She nodded, swallowing nervously.

Without breaking his gaze with her, he said "Gaston is not my firstborn son. There is another."

Madame Lefevre gave a small gasp. Dupont only sipped his wine.

"I was cursed, you see. You know my flaws all too well, Angelique, and how blind I was in my youth. I made the mistake of refusing an enchantress one night. She cursed me, and my kingdom. She said that my firstborn would reflect what was truly in my heart. Dupont thinks this is all nonsense, but the boy was born a monster. Hideously crippled. My wife never even laid eyes on him, we took him away as soon as we saw and told her he died. I had the wet nurse executed afterwards as well, once she served her purpose. I would've killed the boy too, only the enchantress said my kingdom could be saved if he forgives me, or something like that. The boy lives in a manor with a few servants that are basically slaves, and a tutor and overseer, Claude Frollo, far away from the eyes of court."

He ran a hand through his greying hair, and said "I work as a distant benefactor, so the boy knows nothing of his heritage, and he never will. Curse or no, that creature is not fit to wear the crown."

"But what does this have to do with Belle?" asked Madame Lefevre tentatively.

"He probably needs a housekeeper, the one he has now is probably getting too old. Belle could be sent away to marry him. _Technically_ she would marry royalty, you could return to your place at court when we say your daughter married one of my wards, and Gaston will be appeased since it will appear as if she was sent away in disgrace. We can even draw up the marriage contract here and send her off immediately. How does that sound, ma Cherie?"

Madame Lefevre, wide eyed, was staring blankly at her hands. She looked at Dupont, and then the King, and said "I would get to return to court? Live here once more?"

"Yes. Everything will be as it once was."

Then with a hard look of determination, she reached over, took the King's hand in hers, and said "Then let it be done."

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 **Sorry if this chapter is a little confusing folks. Here's what's happening: Belle's supposedly going there to help around the house, but she's marrying Quasi for the sake of her mom's bargain and for propriety. She marries royalty, but the only thing the court will know is that she married a ward of the King's. The King will casually let slip to Gaston that she's really more of a maid (which in his mind she is, because he thinks Quasi is a complete invalid) which will satisfy Gaston's rage. Hope that helps! The next chapter will make this a lot more clearer too. Please review and let me know what you think! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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Belle sat in the corner on the dungeon floor, her arms crossed and her cheeks still red from indignation. She drummed her fingers against her arm as she pressed her back firmly into the gritty wall - just let that oaf _try_ to force her into his bed. She would bite off his nose if she had to!

Hours passed by as she waited for whatever was to come. She spent the time by letting her mind idle through writing ideas, and re-imagining plays she had recently read. There was a lovely one about a valiant man with a hideously long nose trying to win his love, and she was in the middle of trying to recall the final monologue when the door slammed open. Belle scrambled to her feet immediately and pressed herself to the back wall of the cell.

"You're wanted in the King's Study." The guard gestured for her to follow, and hesitantly Belle decided that she might as well go. The reek from the dungeons was already making her head ache.

Silently, the pair walked through the gaudy hallways until they reached the end of one and stopped at a large oak door. The guard knocked brusquely a few times before a gruff voice answered "Enter."

The guard opened the door and ushered Belle through. The King's study was not as garish as the rest of the palace, and nor was the King. He wore a plain velvet tunic and breeches, nothing like the outlandish fashion of court she had read about. She instantly dropped into a low curtsy, though inwardly she wanted to slap that pompous look out of his eyes that was so familiar to his son's.

"Mademoiselle Lefevre, thank you for joining us," the King said, as if Belle had been strolling through the gardens and had lost track of time instead of being held prisoner. He motioned for her to sit on a sofa next to her mother who, oddly, seemed rather happy about everything going on.

Confused, Belle sat down, and ignoring manners directly asked "So, what is to be my punishment for refusing to sleep with your son?"

Sir Dupont at the back of the room guffawed, and Belle's mother gasped, but the King's countenance didn't change. He replied smoothly "We've made arrangements we think will be suitable for all parties involved. You will not be punished in any conventional sense, but you will be sent away, if anything for your own protection from my son. When he gets into one of these moods, he is not easily coerced out of them. Therefore, you will go and take care of an invalid cripple under my care at a manor on the outskirts of Paris. You will act as a general lady of the house, managing the affairs of the manor alongside the old housekeeper. You will also marry my ward, for propriety's sake of course and to secure your claim to managing the house."

Belle sputtered "W-WHAT? But!-"

"This is my decree, and you will not have the insolence to defy it. It is an honor, mademoiselle. Your mother will remain here at court since your positions will be elevated my marrying my ward, and rest assured she will be taken care of. Prince Gaston will also be appeased by this arrangement, since in his eyes he will see it as a disgrace, so you no longer need to worry about him I should think."

Belle didn't quite care what the prince thought of her, but the court and thereby all of France? She wasn't ready to be a laughing stock in the eyes of a whole kingdom.

The King continued, "You will now return home and make the necessary preparations for your journey. I've already given your mother the maps you need to get there, and I've already sent word to the manor. You won't even have to marry him in person, the marriage contract is already drawn up here. Sign, and then you are dismissed."

Belle stood up. "No, thank you, but I most certainly will not. Mother, would you be so kind as to explain to the King that we will not be a part of this stupid plan and be on our way?" Belle started for the door, but realized halfway across the room that her mother hadn't followed her. She turned around, to find her mother still sitting serenely on the couch, with a condescending smile on her face. Belle flushed with anger.

"Ma Cherie," her mother started, "you are too young to understand. This plan is for the best, for all of us! We will be rich again, you won't end up in jail or worse, Prince Gaston is appeased, and you will even get a chance to serve the kingdom in your own way, like you have always wanted!"

"As the wife and housekeeper of a crippled hermit."

"Please Belle, marrying this beast of a man shouldn't bother you, he's probably more animal than man from what the King tells me. Just make sure he's fed and groomed like your horse, and you can spend the rest of your time in the laps of luxury. The King even tells me there's an extensive library at this manor, does that not sound nice?"

Now Belle fumed for the cripple she was to serve, though she loathed him just as much in this moment as she did her mother and the King. Regardless, he was still a man, and a physical deformity did not a beast make.

"I will not go."

Her mother stood up, her face immediately seething with rage "Yes, you will," she hissed. "I am still your mother. I am still in charge of your welfare, and you _will_ honor this plan. You have no choice, no say in the matter. I will have you bound and gagged if need be, but you will be married and you will GO!"

Belle forced back her angry tears, determined to be strong and resolute, and to not give up her dignity in the face of all this. Her mind flew through various possibilities, but between her station as a woman with a small dowry and hunted by the prince, she had very few options. If she did agree to this plan, there was at least a chance there would be enough supplies within the manor for her to use to plan her escape. She could disappear to Paris, or even into Prussia if need be. Her wits, which displeased most of the villagers back in her old town, had gotten her through life this far and she was sure they could get her out of this situation too. Now though, she had to make a choice.

She sighed. Then, she met her mother's eyes, and her glare was fierce enough that her mother blanched and looked away.

"Fine. I will go, but not with you. Send a guard and a lady from the castle with me, and they will see me back home to pack my things and assure my safe passage to this house. But not you, Mama. I will never forgive you for this, for putting your own selfish desires over all else, even the love of a daughter. I hope you're happy with your decision."

She signed the contract without looking at the King or her mother, and she held her head high as she left the study a married woman.

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 **Hope that clears some things up! The play Belle was thinking about in the beginning is _Cyrano de Bergerac_ and it's one of my favorites, 12/10 would recommend. Stay tuned folks, we meet Quasimodo and more characters from the _Hunchback_ cast in the next chapter! Review?**


	6. Chapter 6

**We finally meet Quasimodo, yaaaay! Enjoy this next chapter friends.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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Quasimodo slid down the balustrades of the main foyer, knowing full well he could do as he pleased since Frollo was out administering justice somewhere in the city. Supposedly a troupe of gypsies had settled nearby, and Frollo was determined to eradicate them before the Feast of Fools. He had been bringing in more troops under his command, or at least that's what it seemed like from Quasi's prospective watching from the shadows.

"Hurry up man or you'll be late!" yelled Hugo, as he, Laverne, and Victor jogged after him.

The few servants of the castle were Quasi's only friends, both companions and guardians who succeeded where Frollo failed. Whereas Frollo would belittle and frighten Quasi into submission, they had taught him about compassion, love, and confidence in their own odd ways.

Hugo hopped after him, trying to gain on the young man. Even though Quasi's condition left him in pain most of the time, he was determined to not let that slow him down. He was alive, for goodness sake, so shouldn't he enjoy living while he could?

"Quasi, you know Frollo will be back any minute! You should be on your way to Paris now too, it's nearly half past 2!" Victor called, puffing in disgruntled breaths as he made his way after the scrambling group.

"I know, I know. More than likely I'll still meet him in the tunnels, but I'll make it in time."

"Here's a bite to eat on your way, dear" said Laverne, passing Quasi a knapsack of bread, cheese, and an apple, "And don't forget to ask him about attending the Feast if you can!"

He smiled in thanks, patting the old woman on the shoulder. He hobbled towards the bottom floor of the manor's West Wing, which comprised of his own quarters and the entrance to the secret tunnel that connected their house to Notre Dame all the way in Paris. Frollo used it to get into the city to work as the main Prosecutor for the city, and since Quasi was 15, he himself had used it to help the Archdeacon of the church ring the bells in the evening and for mass every Sunday. Frollo believed it gave him something useful to do, and Quasi never complained since it gave him a chance to glimpse the outside world from the top of Paris.

Victor and Hugo were correct though, he was going to be late if he dallied for much longer. _Dally_. Laverne had taught him that word the other day. Frollo liked to keep up the pretense that Quasi was simple and uneducated, still learning the alphabet. Laverne on the other hand had taken the time to teach Quasi more about language, to otherwise occupy him when he wasn't in Paris or with his caretaker.

As he reached the door under the stairs that led into the cellars and out into the tunnels, he waved cheerily to the trio behind him, and opened the door only to find Frollo standing on the other side.

"Oh, Master! We - I…didn't expect you back so early…"

"Nor did I expect you to be so late, Quasimodo. You should already be at the cathedral attending to your Holy Duties. However, since we just happen to meet here, I will escort you on your way. Shall we?" he asked, not even looking at Quasimodo as he turned back toward the tunnel.

"Quasi glanced back, to find the servants had all fled at the sight of Frollo. He sighed, and stepped through the doorway to follow after his master.

"Have you been reviewing your alphabet?" Frollo queried as he glided by Quasi's side.

"Oh - yes!" He couldn't help himself he still wanted to please Frollo, even if he secretly found this alphabet work tedious. He was the closest thing he had to a father figure, and he wanted to make him proud if he could.

"Good, we shall review it again tonight at dinner. However, there is a matter that I must discuss with you. We shall soon have an addition to our household."

Quasi stared up at his master in shock. Another person? Frollo was strategic man, taking any sort of precautions he could to make sure Quasi was never discovered by the outside world, for "his own safety" as he often put it. So why on earth, after 20 years of hiding him, would he let someone else into their closed little world?

Frollo continued "I have received a letter from your kind patron. It appears that he has secured for you a wife."

Quasi stumbled and almost fell flat on his face. He could only manage a strangled _"What?"_ as he tried to regain his sense of gravity.

Frollo walked on unfazed. "Yes. He has decided, in all his generosity, that since you have come of age you should deserve the comforts that all men deserve." He said this in the same manner someone would announce that plague had infected half the city. "This girl, a lady in fact, was brought into his custody and he thinks that she will do well for you. He already had her sign the marriage contract, and she will arrive within a fortnight with a small entourage of guards that will eventually be stationed here in Paris as extra security for the Feast of Fools."

Quasi was barely listening. A wife. So was he already married? How odd that he should find himself married overnight to a total stranger. But there were so many things that went along with that. For instance, his physical appearance. _What sort of girl could bare to look at me, or love me for that matter_ , he thought.

And yet…there was the rose, the one he kept up hidden in his rooms, the one the magical lady had given to him. As a child he thought he had dreamt the whole thing, but woke up the next morning to find the rose glistening by his pillow. He had kept it safe ever since, but two years ago it started wilting. He foggily remembered what the mysterious woman had said, something along the lines of finding love? _Maybe this could really be happening_ , Quasi pondered.

Frollo glanced down at his charge. "Yes, I can see your worry. No matter, I have already thought of these concerns. She will be a wife in name only, and reside in the manor to run the house and help Laverne with whatever chores need doing. There is no need to cause you undue harm by a wench from the cruel outside world, my boy. Remember what I have taught you - you are deformed, and ugly, and these are crimes for which the world shows little pity. This girl will be no different, and see you only as a monster. I, as your defender, will take care to keep her away from the West Wing, to secure your privacy."

Quasi's hope was snuffed out, but he could only nod. He was well trained to obey.

Frollo patted him on his humped back. "All will be well, Quasimodo. Trust in me, and I will protect you. Now run along to the Cathedral." He gave him a small push, and Quasi, stumbling again, made his way to Notre Dame.

He spent the rest of the day in a daze. This patron, the one who had found him after his mother had tried to drown him according to Frollo, had secured the manor for him and he supposed the servants as well. Quasi never really questioned the whole situation, since this patron was usually absent from his life – that is, until now.

For once, the outside world was coming to him, but as another prisoner. There was no way Frollo would let this girl out of his clutches once she arrived, especially if she caught sight of Quasi. He shuddered, imagining her face once she saw him.

Once he arrived at home, and after dinner with Frollo, he climbed up into the attic of the west wing to work on his project. He had slowly been working on a wooden model of the city of Paris from his vantage point ever since he became a bell ringer, taking care to notice all the people he saw every day and dutifully carve their likeness to occupy his model streets below.

Now, he looked through the blocks of wood Victor brought in for him from the forest. What kind of wood would she be? What would she look like? He thought of all the types, from the graceful willow to the luxurious chestnut, but his eye caught on a slender block of holly. He shrugged, and shuffled over, cradling the small block of wood and placed it reverently in his city scene. The block stood amongst the painted people, a new addition to his world just waiting to be carved.

He stared at the block, and wondered silently, _Who knows what could happen now?_

In his office, Frollo rubbed his temples, warding off an oncoming headache. He had received word of the girl's coming from the King only yesterday, and had been plotting ever since on how to tell his charge.

He had decided to tell the boy part of the truth that he was now a married man, if only to provide him a good reason to stay close to the manor and not wander the streets of Paris as he often begged to do nowadays. But he _must_ keep them separate. The girl already knew too much, and if she told him who had specifically ordered her to marry Quasimodo then all could be lost. This boy must never know his true heritage, lest he someday rule all of France. Frollo shuddered at the thought, imagining Quasimodo's face under the holy crown.

 _Ave Maria, help me in these trying days,_ he prayed.

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 **So I know this is going to get confusing since I'm deviating quite a bit, but that's why crossovers are so fun. Basically I combined the gargoyle characters with the servants from the castle, since even their personalities match up fairly nicely. Also, I had to have a castle/manor type place for the story to work, but what's a hunchback without his Notre Dame?**

 **Please leave a review and let me know what you think! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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Belle held her head high as Philippe trotted through the dense forest as the small party led the way to the castle. After about a week of preparations both at the palace and at Belle's old home, they had set out. They had been riding for close to two days now, and Lady Girardeau said they should reach Paris fairly soon. Belle had only brought enough things to fill one bag, just some reminders of her Papa, two changes of clothes, seeds from their garden, some money she had saved over the years, and a few books among other things. Lady Girardeau and a soldier who hadn't bothered to give his name flanked her on either side, along with five additional guards making sure "no harm would come to her," or in reality to stop her from running away.

She was, after all, married to the King's ward now. That granted her certain rights she supposed, though it didn't seem like anyone thought of her as someone with power. The entire ride, she plotted ways she could escape the bargain, the castle, her wifely duties, all of it. She could stow away on a trade ship to England, or disguise herself as a crone and live in the Prussian countryside far away from the eyes of court. Both languages she knew fairly well enough that she felt she could pass, and she figured she had enough money tucked away in her knapsack that she could get fairly far, at least away from France and its crazy politics.

Yet as they neared the manor, Belle decided that maybe it wouldn't be too terrible. Surely an old manor would have thousands of hiding places, would it not? If her husband was a brute or anything like Gaston she could find a way to hide from him until she was able to escape. If he was more along the lines of what her mama had described, a poor cripple without language or thought, she could still care for him. And what of this teacher figure, Frollo? What would he be like? If he was under the King's thumb enough to take care of a crippled man hidden in the woods, Belle wasn't expecting much out of him.

Suddenly there was a light jingling noise coming towards them, and Belle could just make out the figure of some gypsies making their way towards them. Belle had always had a certain fondness for gypsies, as they often played the loveable trickster in quite a few of her favorite books. One was a skinny man in a purple mask, and another was the most beautiful woman Belle had ever seen, accompanied by a goat. She quite liked the look of this odd trio, and stopped to greet them, welcome for any sort of delay.

She called out to them "My dear gypsies, what brings you so far into the woods today?"

The skinny man made a sweeping bow and said "Fair maiden, we are making our way back to a camp outside of Chartres to pick up supplies for the Feast of Fools in Paris!"

"The Feast of Fools?" Belle asked, entranced. She didn't care how Lady Girardeau turned her nose up at them, or how the nameless guard next to her clutched his sword just a bit tighter.

"Why yes!" cried the gypsy, "It's one of the most glorious days of the year! But oh ho, I won't spoil it, dear lady, you must come and see it for yourself the day after tomorrow, and be sure to bring your charming friends too." He grinned mischievously at Lady Girardeau, and the beauty winked at the head guard who became quite flustered.

"Here," she said, drawing a few apples out of her satchel, "I haven't brought much with me, but I figure Chartres is far, and as fellow travelers I don't want you to go hungry. Have a safe journey!"

"Merci, mademoiselle!"

"Madame, actually."

"Oh ho! Well, congratulations. See you at the Feast of Fools!"

The skinny one made his way off, followed closely by the beauty and the goat.

"Pardon me, madam," the guard spoke up, finally deigning to talk with them, "but I'm not sure if you should be really consorting with gypsies now that you're married to the King's ward."

Belle placed her hands on her hips. "Oh really? And what's it to you? You haven't spoken this entire time, and now you do only to criticize, Monsieur…?"

"Phoebus. And sorry, I was expressly told not to speak to you Madam, but really, gypsies? You do know you're on your way to the house of the man who wants to see them all dead, right?"

Belle went pale. "My husband?"

"No, his caretaker, Claude Frollo. After I escort you I'm going to be stationed with him as a captain of the guards, and some of my friends back at the palace told me all about him. As for your husband, I have no idea what he's like, but if he's anything like his master, I'd be careful if I were you."

Belle nodded, still very pale. "Thank you, Monsieur Phoebus, and feel free to talk the rest of the time. We may be under orders from the King, but he's not here right now, is he?"

Phoebus gave a halfhearted chuckle, then motioned to the rest of the guards to start moving again.

After a few more hours of riding, they came just to the edge of the forest that bordered Paris. Belle could manage to make out a manor hidden within the shadows of the trees. It was a bit more forbidding than she had imagined, and shivered a little as they approached the gates. They stopped, and Phoebus leapt off his horse along with another guard to open the gates. They creaked slowly, grinding against Belle's ears. Obviously, it appeared that very few entered or left this place.

Slowly their group entered the main gates, and Belle could make out the figure of a tall imposing man and small crumpled woman standing by his side along with two manservants. Phoebus helped her off her horse, and she made her way up to the steps, taking her time to breathe slowly and control her pounding heart.

The man was older, but his eyes glinted with the power and energy of a man Belle's age. He stared down at her past his hooked nose, smiling like a cat that had just caught a canary. Belle curtsied, trying to remain dignified though that was the last thing she felt she was.

"Mademoiselle, or I suppose Madame, Lefevre, I presume? It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last." He took her had gently a pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. He was all gentility, but his dark crisp voice made her shiver like a winter wind.

"Thank you very much, sir. Are you Monsieur Frollo then?"

"I am indeed. I shall be here to make sure your every comfort is attended to. Think of me as your Head of House. This is Laverne Potts, our housekeeper and cook. She'll escort you to your rooms while I go over these guard's next assignment." He gestured to the woman next to him, who grinned at Belle. As he swept past her, he added "I expect you are curious about your husband, but you will not have the pleasure of meeting him for quite some time I'm afraid. The manor is yours to explore, feel free to go anywhere, except the West Wing."

"What's in the - ?"

"It's forbidden, simple as that," he cut in, not even turning around. "I bid you a good day, Madame."

Laverne tugged at Belle's hand as she stared after the strange man who was basically her guardian now. What sort of crazy world had she mixed herself up with now? She sighed, and squeezing her eyes shut to stop the sudden urge to cry, she followed the housekeeper into her new home.

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 **Review? :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry it's been a while since I've posted, some things went down in my personal life on top of school and work catching up to me. But, all is well, and I hope to be posting regularly again! Enjoy!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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Quasimodo leaned just slightly out behind the curtain to glance down at the scene below. He didn't wish to be seen, but all he wanted was a glimpse of his wife. Wife. That was such an odd word, and not one he'd ever thought would be associated with _him._

He couldn't see much from his awkward position, but he caught sight of at least two ladies getting off horseback and an assembly of guards who would most likely work for Frollo in Paris. One lady was tall and elegant, with blonde hair gathered up into a presumably fashionable hairstyle, wearing a regal expression and an expensive looking gown judging from what he'd glimpsed from his alcove during Mass. The other was smaller, delicately boned with shining brown hair half pulled up with the rest falling down her back in large curls and waves. He assumed this was probably the ladies maid.

Yet, when Frollo went up to greet them, it was the smaller one that curtsied and that Frollo bowed to. So…this was her? He shied away from the window again. He didn't want her to see him just yet. He was sure Frollo would dissuade her from going to the West Wing, and he knew he was forbidden to see her, but all the same he didn't want her to form an opinion of him based off of his features.

She had provided him with something he seldom felt – hope. Victor, Hugo, and Laverne were faithful friends, but they had practically raised him. This was his chance to have someone around his age from the outside tell him about life, maybe someone to talk to and shares stories and just, he didn't know, accept him. Befriend him. He really wasn't expecting much else.

He took a deep breath, and glanced back at the window. He saw Frollo going up to the guards, and Laverne guiding his wife into the house. He couldn't see well from his high vantage point, but it looked like…she was crying? Could this really be so bad?

He heard footsteps on the stairs, and looked up to see Victor and Hugo making their way in. Victor always tried walking everywhere with the dignity of a renaissance man even though he was the strong arm of the household. Hugo, on the other hand, with his pot belly and mischievous eyes, was the joker of the group. Sometimes Quasi wondered if Laverne was the only one who ever had any sense within the trio.

"Hey ya, Quasi! Catch a glimpse of your girl down there?" Hugo asked, jabbing him playfully in the ribs.

Quasi blushed. "A small look, yeah, though I couldn't see much. Is she really that unhappy to be here?"

Victor sighed, gloomily saying "Unfortunately yes, but the girl has supposedly been stripped of all she loves, doomed to remain here until the end of her days."

Hugo rolled his eye. "Oh come on, it isn't that bad here, now is it? We make it fun, right Quasi? Plus the rose is on its last petals, so she's got to be the one! So, since we actually got to see her in person, whatdya wanna know?"

"I-I mean….I..didn't get a good look, but…what _does_ she look like? Does she seem…nice?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I should be asking."

Victor patted him consolingly on the back, while Hugo went into a description. "Oh man Quasi, you are one lucky guy! She's quite the looker!"

Victor added "She has eyes that sparkle like dew in the dawn light, and is truly a vision to behold, even if she is a little on the small side." Quasi disregarded this last comment, since everyone was small to Victor.

"As for being nice, who cares? She has to be since you're her husband."

"No, no, I don't want it to be like. She doesn't have to do anything, and I feel terrible that she's trapped here now to with me.

"Oh come one Quasi, any girl would be lucky to have you!"

"She may not think that, Hugo" Quasi sighed. "Anyway, I'm forbidden to see her too, so it's not like we'll even get to meet, much less have a chance to fall in love."

"Yeah, but that's just old Frollo talking, he'll have to leave to do his ministry duties, and since you and she will be cooped up here, alllll aloooone…"

"He won't be alone, we'll be here to chaperone you dunce." Victor said, whacking Hugo on the back of his head.

Hugo scowled and rubbed the bruise. "He's married, why does he need a chaperone?"

"It wouldn't be proper - married or not, they have yet to actually meet." Victor said, folding his arms resolutely.

Hugo rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry. "Quasi, don't listen to this blockhead. Go down and greet her!"

Quasi looked down at his feet, his bowed legs, and large hands. He usually wasn't that self-conscious, he knew he was a monster, but all the same…

"I just want to get to know her, is that really so bad? Who is Frollo to stop me? You're right, I'll go, I'll go down and see her, at least greet her or something!" Quasi started to get more excited the more he spoke and he made his way to the door.

"There you go, 'atta boy Quasi!" Hugo cheered after him. Victor shook his head, but smiled after the hunchback.

Quasimodo tried to calm his rapidly beating heart as he walked towards the stair that lead into the main part of the manor. He had no idea why he was so nervous, he knew he shouldn't be as hopefully as he was, but maybe, just maybe, this girl could be the one.

He was a fool, and he knew it.

He stopped just at the edge of the stairs, still within the shadows. He could hear Laverne's warbling voice, giving the girl a tour of the place.

"….and right up these stairs here is the West Wing, but you probably shouldn't go up there. As you heard Master Frollo doesn't want you there, and believe-you-me you don't want to see him when he's angry."

He heard a soft, musical chuckle. "I would think not, he was fairly terrifying even just then."

Her voice reminded Quasi of some of the smaller bells in the cathedral, the lighter tones that sounded on particularly joyful holidays, like Easter or Christmas. Peeking out just slightly, he finally got a fairly good look at his new wife.

She was short, still taller than Laverne but only by a little. Her cheeks were still flushed from riding and left blotches on her cheeks, and she looked pale and tired. Still, Quasi noticed that there was something about her, the way she still held herself with pride after all of this, the stubborn tilt of chin, and he silently applauded her for it.

She looked down at Laverne, and said "I know that Monsieur Frollo said I wouldn't meet my husband for a while, but I was wondering…I hope this isn't rude, but I was wondering why in particular?"

She was twisting a ring around her finger on her right hand, Quasi noticed, maybe as a nervous tick? Victor always got a bit of an eye twitch when Hugo had one of his many _ideas_ for rejuvenating the manor, and this reminded him of that a little.

Laverne sighed. "The Master probably has his reasons, but I'm sure Quasimodo will show himself to you in his own time."

"Quasimodo? Is that his name?"

From his hiding place, Quasi winced. Hearing her speak his name, he could tell what she was thinking. Naming someone "half-formed" isn't really all that subtle.

"Yes, but he is a dear boy. I'll admit this is one of the oddest marriages I've ever heard of in all my years, but I'm sure you'll manage dearie. Now, you've had a long journey, so let's get you off to bed."

Laverne put an arm around the girl - Quasi realized he didn't even know her name - and led her towards the East Wing, where Frollo kept his rooms. Quasi watched them go, tempted to call out, maybe try to welcome her properly and introduce himself, but his courage failed him at the last moment. He slunk back to his rooms, dejected. He spent the rest of the night awake, staring at the rose and thinking of this stranger that now occupied the place that had become his whole world. Who was she really? And could she even stand the sight of him once they finally met?

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 **Review?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi folks! Hope you all are well and enjoying the fall weather (or spring weather, depending on your geography). Here's the next chapter for you.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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As soon as Belle fell to the mattress of her new bed, she was instantly asleep. The traveling and shock of it all had left her physically and mentally exhausted, and the rest was a welcome one.

Hours later of uninterrupted sleep, she jolted awake after an odd dream. She had been back in their cottage, and she had stumbled upon her papa at his forge. He was crafting petals for a silver rose, and she stared at him working for a long time, missing him so much she felt she would burst. Then, still focusing on putting each petal in place, he said kindly "Do not be deceived by appearances, _ma petite belle_. Remember what I taught you about kindness in this cruel world."

Belle was about to reply, choking back tears, but then a bright flash illuminated the room, and she was awake.

Tears still marked her face. It had been a while since she had dreamt of her papa, but what was all this about appearances? Maybe some of her fear about her cripple husband was leaking into her dreams. She wiped the tears away, stretched, and took a look around her new room.

It was actually quite nice, all things considered. The furniture wasn't opulent, but the light blue silk wallpaper made it look like she was outside, and the satin bed covers had felt delicious on her tired muscles. However, as she stood up to explore some more, she noticed a fine layer of dust covering most of the furniture. There was a wardrobe with some recently purchased dresses in it, and a small wash room off to the side with some handmade oat and lavender soap, but other than that the room was empty. Belle shrugged off her traveling cloak, and laid it on the bed. Cautiously, she opened the door and poked her head outside.

The rest of the manor had a bit more of a gothic grandeur about it, full of dark wood and gargoyles. She shuddered, feeling watched as she made eye contact with several of the grotesque statues.

A fire crackled merrily though in the front foyer, and Belle warmed her hands by it for a while. There really wasn't any other sounds coming from the entire house, until a door banged down a distant hallway, making Belle jump.

Curious, she followed the general direction of the sound, until she started to hear voices. One was definitely Laverne, the old housekeeper, along with a gloomy bass voice and a merry baritone, though they all sounded a bit distraught. As she crept closer, she could start to make out some of their words

"….was saying that he never should have gone, something was bound to go wrong."

"Aw come on, you worry too much Vicky, he'll be alright."

"Publically humiliated, shamed in front of Frollo, crowned the King of Fools, and then saved by a gypsy no less?" A snort of derision sounded, and then "Of course he won't be fine after that you idiot."

"At least the dear had the decency to bring him back here before Frollo could get his hands on him. I'm honestly just worried what'll happen to Quasi once the master returns, and then -"

"Um, excuse me?" Belle called. She had reached the opened door in the servant's quarters, and what was presumably the kitchen with the three servants of this house crowded inside.

All three jumped at the sound of her voice, and instantly stopped their conversation. The shorter manservant broke out into a huge smile. "Mademoiselle, how nice to actually meet you! Hugo at your service." He bounded up to her and kissed her hand a little roughly.

"It's a pleasure" Belle chuckled. The other man, who loomed over Belle, swept into an elegant bow and introduced himself as Victor Cogsworth. Laverne also came up, cheerily hugging Belle around her middle.

"You had us a little worried there m'dear, you were asleep for a day and a half! Yours guards and lady already left, though the handsome captain Phoebus said to send him word in Paris if you need anything at all."

"Really? It's hard to believe I slept that long...but I suppose that makes sense with everything going on."

"Of course dearie, but we're glad you're awake now, and just in time for supper!"

Belle stomach growled embarrassingly in response. "I suppose I am a little hungry," she admitted, blushing.

"Did you hear that boys, she's hungry! Get out the plates, go on now!"

Victor and Hugo scrambled to meet Laverne's demand, and within a few short minutes a light spread was set out on the kitchen table for the four of them.

"What about Master Frollo? Or, um, Quasimodo? Won't they be joining us?"

Laverne shook her head in between bites of stew. "Oh, the master sometimes takes his dinner in the city, especially on busy days like today. It was the Feast of Fools in Paris today, you know. Usually though he'll insist on boring formal dinners, so consider yourself lucky tonight." She winked coyly at Belle. Then her face fell a little, as if troubled by another thought. She continued "As for Quasi, he's…had a bit of a rough day, so he's up in his rooms."

Hugo tore off a piece of bread, and added "Yeah, so probably stay away from the West Wing for a while."

Laverne shot him a look, and Victor whacked him upside the head.

The wheels in Belle's mind started turning, curiosity once more taking over common sense. "So that's what - or, who, I guess - is in the West Wing."

"Yes yes, but the Master ordered you to stay here. You would do well not to anger him." Victor added, giving Belle a meaningful glare.

"But, well, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you said he was hurt? At this festival?"

Victor acknowledged "There was a minor incident, yes, but -"

"Poor guy got walloped by a mob, tied down and everything." It appeared that this Hugo chap had trouble keeping his mouth shut, Belle noted.

She turned to Laverne. "Is there anything that I can do for him? I don't care what Frollo said, we are both basically prisoners in here so we may as well become allies, and I'd like to start off on the right foot. So, how can I help?"

Laverne inspected the girl for a long time, and Belle shifted in her seat a little uncomfortably under the cook's hard stare.

"Hmm…alright. I think you're made of sterner stuff than you look. Here, I was going to go up after supper but I suppose you can, these are fresh bandages, some warm water, and a sponge." Laverne gathered up these items, as well as an apron, and handed them over to Belle. "Clean up the cuts, and replace the bandages. Do you know how to do this, _m'lady_?" she inquired skeptically.

Belle nodded grimly. "My papa, he was an inventor, before the whole lady thing really happened…it's a long story, but usually he got himself into scrapes. Mama, she wasn't very good around blood, so I usually helped him bandage the particularly bad cuts."

"You should be fine then, be sure to knock though so you don't startle him too badly."

Belle nodded and gathered up the bowl and bandages after tying on her apron, and made her way out of the kitchen. As soon as she left she could hear the whispered argument break out, but she didn't care. Who was this Frollo to tell her what she could and couldn't do? And, she thought, she would rather see for herself what exactly she had agreed to.

As much as she had hated her mama's words about this hermit, she was ashamed to admit to herself that they had wormed their way into her thoughts. What if he was some brainless being incapable of normal human functions or feelings? What if he really was a monster, just like in the fairytales?

 _No_ , Belle told herself firmly, _don't think like that. No matter what, he is just a person too_.

By this time she had reached the door at the top of the stairs, and stood just outside. Hesitantly, she lifted her hand to knock, and even then waited a few more seconds to actually make a sound on the door.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She waited, but heard no response from inside. _Could he be asleep?_ she wondered. She tried again, this time a little louder

"I said I'm fine, Laverne, I can manage by myself," she heard a voice call from beyond the door. She sighed a little in relief - he spoke just like a normal person, and as soon as the thought crossed her mind she mentally smacked herself. He sounded younger though, and it wasn't until then that Belle realized she had expected a man much older than her, not a person around her own age.

She cleared her throat. "Ah, it isn't Laverne. I do have bandages though. May - may I come in?"

There was a pause, some shuffling about, and then quietly the voice said "The door's unlocked."

Belle took a deep breath, and with her free hand opened the heavy oak door.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darker room, but she saw not a bedroom but an artist's workshop. A wooden model of Paris, glass shards strung up to beautifully catch and reflect the lantern light, and a seemingly glowing rose encased in glass by a bed all caught her eye. Then, from the shadows off to one side of the room, came a quiet cough.

Belle turned and gasped, dropping the bowl, as she beheld her husband for the first time.

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 **Sorry for the cliff hanger, but all shall be resolved soon...or will it? *maniacal laughter***

 **Review?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hope the wait wasn't too long, but it's time for our lovebirds to meet!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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The shadows still couldn't hide him completely, though a small voice in the back of Belle's mind said that he was probably ashamed of his appearance and had tried to hide so as not to frighten her. Not that it worked really.

She was honestly more shocked than frightened. He was a bit shorter than her, his large humped back bending him over. His legs were stumpy and bowed, but his arms were large and corded with muscles, crossed protectively in front of his chest. His face though - it appeared as if half of it was squished, and the other side was just a little stretched out. Bright red hair fell across his face, as if he could hide from her behind it, and his nose was a bit larger but had a traditional button shape and rested oddly between his features. His eyes though…he was looking at the floor and not at her, but Belle was oddly struck at the depth of expression in those large green eyes, even if they were oddly mismatched in size.

There were sizeable welts and rope burns across his arms though, and a chord of pity rung though Belle's chest.

He stammered "I-I'm sorry, I should have…um, it's…I…" he sighed, and he shuffled back, trying to melt further into the shadows.

Belle took a step towards him, about to tell him not to worry or something along those lines, when a voice thundered darkly behind her.

"I thought I had told you never to come here."

Belle whipped around to see Frollo standing in the doorway, his face a mask of rage.

"It was nothing, I was just -"

" _Do you realize what you could have done?"_

"Please, I was just -"

He grabbed her by her wrist, making her drop all of her supplies, and seethed in her face " _Get. Out."_ With that, he roughly shoved her out of the door.

Belle fled, feeling distraught and terrified and a number of other things. She ran past the servants, who had crept into the foyer at the sound of raised voices.

"Hey, wait a minute, where are you going mademoiselle?"

"Promise or no promise I cannot stay here another second!" Belle called, her voice shaking as she wrenched the door open and ran out into the yard. Phillippe was in the stable, and Belle clambered on him, riding bareback as she made her way to the gates.

She pulled at them until they budged open, got back onto her horse, and fled from the manor

Quasi reeled back as Frollo struck him across the face. "You insolent boy! You let her _see_ you? Has what I taught you your entire life been for nothing?"

If anything the experience had proved what Frollo had taught him his whole existence. He was deformed, he was ugly, and the world would indeed show him no pity.

Quasi remained silent, trying to hold back tears as little prickles of pain danced across his cheek. He had always been emotional, sure, but he tried to never let Frollo see him cry. But her face…

 _But is that really what you saw?_ A small voice questioned in the back of his mind.

He reconsidered and went back through their encounter, ignoring Frollo's tirade. She had definitely gasped (and dropped the bowl no less), probably disgusted by him…then again, she didn't run away. What did that mean? She didn't say anything either, but had taken a step _towards_ him, not away. She had only fled when Frollo scared her off.

He made his decision. For once in his life, he decided he wasn't going to hide.

"I'm going after her."

Frollo smacked him again. " _How dare you_. After all I've done for you, and this is how you repay me? By throwing away my guidance? You would go back to her, this woman whom you were not even supposed to meet, and who was obviously disgraced and disgusted by you." He took a deep breath, held it for a minute, and then smiled down at Quasi. "Oh Quasimodo, you are safer here. No need to trouble yourself over her actions. She has nowhere else left to go, no one to turn to. She will be back, mark my words." He patted Quasi on his hump, and tried to usher him further back into the room.

He repeated softly "I'm going after her."

Frollo lost all composure then. "Fine! Let your misery be on your own head then, for that is all she will bring you!"

Quasi barged out of the manor, following the trail of hoof tracks left in the mud. He ran past the gates for the first time in his life, and followed the track and the sound of the horse into the woods.

And then he saw them. A pack of wolves had descended, cornering them, and the girl was trying to ward them off with a large stick. She was doing a fairly good job, Quasi noticed admiringly, but the wolves were gaining ground.

"Mademoiselle! Over here!" he called, running towards her. She looked up in shock, but he fancied he also saw a little relief there too. The wolves started to turn their attention to him, growling low in their throats. One lunged at him but he batted them away, thankful that all his years in the bell tower had provided him some strength.

Belle managed to get back on the spooked horse, and rode straight for him. She leaned out, reaching towards him and shouted "Grab my hand!"

Quasi didn't hesitate as she rode by, though in hindsight he later realized he probably could have dislocated her arm. He jumped like he did when we was swinging from the bells, and landed behind the girl on the horse.

The horse broke into a run, and they raced all the way back to the manor, the wolves trailing and nipping at their heels the whole time. Quasi wrapped his arms around the girl's waist to hold on as the horse sped back to the manor, and blushed when he realized what he was doing. Eventually though they got a little ahead of the wolves, swept past the gates, and Quasi leaped off to shut them closed right as the wolves reached them. He stumbled back and lost his footing a bit, making him fall to the ground. The girl swung off the horse, and started his way, then slowed.

"Are - are you alright?" She asked as she cautiously approached him.

"A little bruised, but nothing to worry about." He cringed then, feeling a stinging pain on his arm. He looked down, and saw a large cut on the backside of his forearm. Apparently one of the wolves had gotten him in the middle of the fight.

"Let's get that cleaned up then."

Quasi looked up at her, only to see her reach out a hand to help him up. She was staring at her shoes instead of him, which made his heart sink, but he took her hand anyways. She flinched a little at the contact, but wrapped her fingers firmly around him and helped him to his feet. She tentatively placed an arm around his back, and helped him into the manor.

As they walked, Quasi quietly asked "I'm sorry, but they never told me your name. But still, thank you, I guess."

He glanced up at her, and caught the tiniest smile playing on her features.

"You're welcome. And Belle - my name is Belle."

* * *

 **YAY, they met! But now what? It's honestly so much fun to write this friends, thanks for following along!**

 **Review?**


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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Belle wrung out the rag of hot water that Victor had brought up to Quasimodo's rooms. The hunchback was sitting on a stool by the fireplace, cradling his hurt arms and staring into the flames, and Belle sat on the floor near enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Now hold still. This may sting a little…" Belle said as she gently pressed the rag into the cut.

Quasi hissed through his teeth and grimaced, but made no other sound. Belle glanced up at him and back down, still shy and uncertain what to do around him. She thought she was starting to get a little accustomed to his gargoyle-like features, but any time she caught a glimpse of him from a new angle she would still feel a jolt of shock and jump a little.

That didn't help anything, and he obviously noticed and tried to turn his face away from her. Frustrated with herself, she focused on her work, trying to clean the cuts and scrapes as best she could.

She hesitated before saying softly "By the way, I…I never thanked you, for saving my life."

"Oh, uh…think nothing of it, um…"

She watched as a quick blush flushed his cheeks. She smiled a little, and was glad at least she wasn't the only one who was feeling incredibly awkward about this entire situation.

They sat quietly in that attitude for quite a while well Belle continued her ministrations. She wracked her brain for something to say, maybe to explain why she was here, but surely he already knew? The awkward silence lengthened, and Belle was grateful when Laverne came hobbling quickly back into the room with some tea.

"I heard all the fuss, and I'm glad you decided to come back, dearie. Frollo's gone off to Paris for a while, so you should be fine. He'll forget about it all soon enough, the old codger."

Belle nodded, and then finished tying the last bandage around Quasimodo's wrist. The rope burns were fairly severe, and she prayed that they wouldn't cause an infection. She also couldn't help but notice that despite the rest of his shocking appearance, he had very nice hands.

Laverne shoved her aside then, not unkindly, to inspect her work. "Laverne, please, I'm sure she did fine." Quasi said quietly.

"That she did, but I just want to check. You were in sorry shape this morning, and if that gypsy hadn't helped you through the tunnels I'm not sure you would've made it back!"

He sighed, and gently took the offered cup from Laverne. "I hope Frollo doesn't find her, she made some remarks that I don't think will sit well with him. I wish you all could've been there before it all though, it was just as fantastic as it looked from the Cathedral!"

Laverne patted his back. "Of course it was dear, but you also saw what happens when people encounter something different from their ordinary lives. You've watched Paris longer than anyone, and you know how they like their silly little routines. I don't want to you leaving again in case this happens, or at least be more careful Quasi!"

Belle watched the encounter unobserved. It seemed like Laverne was more of a mother to Quasimodo than a servant, and he seemed to treat her well too. That was at least one point of favor for him that he had over Gaston.

It was then she realized she was staring, and not sure if this was polite or not in Quasimodo's case, got up quietly and slowly started to explore the room. Swaths of fabrics draped from the beams in the ceiling, giving the space and airy feeling. There was a small bed near a window, and a large portion of the room was dedicated to a work space and the model of Paris she had seen earlier. Carpentry tools and paints lay scattered on a work bench, and curling flecks of wood dusted the ground. As she got closer, she noticed that there were carved people added to the set too, each painted to look like a townsperson.

"…do you like it?"

She jumped, startled at the soft question. Quasimodo had come up behind her, still sort of shying away and not meeting her eyes. She quickly looked away, back down to the scene of Paris.

"It's lovely, actually. Did you do all this yourself?" She mentally cursed herself for how uncomfortable she sounded.

"Yes. I, well, there's not too much to do here, so I just sort of started and it's grown…it's the view from Notre Dame, but it's not that good."

Belle snorted. "Are you joking? I know about six good toys makers who would sell their shops and all their wares for the skills you have!" She stopped though, embarrassed at her own impropriety and forwardness. A year ago she would have thought nothing of that comment; it was honest and funny so why shouldn't she say it? But her mama's teachings came back vividly and she cringed as she recalled the lashes on her hands a comment like that would have earned her. But her mama wasn't here now, was she?

After Quasimodo didn't respond, she added quietly "My father was an inventor, you know. We lived in a small village with other artisans, selling their crafts at fairs near Paris and Versailles. He would have said the same."

She glanced down at him, and saw he was blushing. She smiled softly, starting to like him despite herself and the situation. Hadn't she thought from the very start that he could use a friend? He wasn't that bad at all, just a poor soul trapped here just like her. His looks still unnerved her, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.

She was going to ask him something more about the model when Victor strode purposefully into the room.

"Quasi, I just received word from the Archdeacon. Apparently that gypsy who saved you has invoked Sanctuary at the Cathedral. He asks you to come at once and see if you can either talk some sense into her or let her use your apartments there."

"Is she alright?"

He straightened his lapel, as if gypsy were beneath his notice, and sniffed "She apparently got into a bit of a squabble with the Captain of the Guard, but he hasn't arrested her yet so that's something."

"Good, yes. I'll go now." He started out the door with Laverne and Victor trailing him, but then he stopped and turned around. He glanced up at Belle, meeting her eyes briefly before looking away again.

"Would you like to come too?"

Belle walked over, brushing some wood dust off her apron. "Of course. I've always wanted to go to Paris anyways."


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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As they made their way hastily through the underground tunnels that would take them to the Cathedral, Quasimodo mulled over the day's events.

Belle. Of course her name would be Belle, wouldn't it? After all, his life had revolved around the bells of Notre Dame, so it was only fitting that God would send him a girl named after them for a wife. Maybe this was a sign? Laverne would probably say so.

She hadn't been _at all_ what he was expecting. Her shock at seeing him and running away, those events he had imagined countless times. It had hurt less than the hatred flung at him during the Feast of Fools, only because it was expected. But that she would come back to him, and willingly touch him as she applied bandages to his wounds? That was odd. She had stayed too, admired his art of all things, and now was coming with him to Notre Dame!

Who on earth was this girl? He had expected a spoiled lady from court, not an inventor's daughter with a kind heart. He just hoped that kindness was enough to look past his monstrosity, but he had to get to know her first. _If only I could speak in complete sentences around her!_ he thought to himself. Sometimes he thought his shyness was more crippling than his hunched back.

And now they were off to see the lovely gypsy who saved him. He had to admit, she was one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen, though he felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought since he was technically married.

She had saved him though, and he remembered her supporting his weight as they walked back through these very tunnels. His mind flashed back to earlier in the woods, as Belle led him back to the house, her delicate hands shaking as she led him back to his rooms.

It was getting late and they were both in rough shape, but they struggled on as they made their way onwards.

Belle followed behind him, and was trapped in her own web of thoughts, doubts, and curiosity. She was wondering if the gypsy was one of the two she had seen in the forest, and if the guard who had attacked them was under Phoebus's orders.

She also had to admit, she wasn't sure where to go from here with Quasimodo. They had met, and talked a little, but now what? They would be sharing a house for possibly the rest of their lives, and while Belle had always secretly dreamed of true love, she was skeptical of the whole notion. She had read enough stories to believe it existed, but had steeled herself away from thoughts of that for her ever since her mother started her training. Now, as a married woman, she still didn't think it would be possible – could she ever _love_ Quasimodo? _Be sensible,_ she told herself, _and only aim to be his friend. Even that would be a Godsend in this case._

They had reached the end of the winding tunnel, and Quasimodo led them up a steep set of stone steps. Unlatching a trap door, they found themselves in a secluded prayer room in an abandoned corner of Notre Dame. Quasimodo put a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence, and they crept out of the room and into the main area of Notre Dame.

Belle had to stifle a gasp. Sure, she had been to cathedrals and palaces before, but she had never seen anything to match the quiet magnificence of the Notre Dame Cathedral. Soaring stone arches and columns joined overhead to create the vaulted ceiling, and the polished checkered floor shone beneath her feet. Great colored windows, more vibrant than she could ever dream, left areas of the room bathed in rainbows where moonlight struck. The smell of incense wafted through the air, taking Belle back to attending mass with her parents as a girl. Walking out into the center of the hall, she did a slow turn trying to take it all in, attempting to memorize it for later when she could sketch and write about it.

Quasi watched her from the shadows. He felt a bit like he was trespassing, witnessing the pure joy and wonder on her face. He vaguely remembered when he was brought here for the first time, but his memories were clouded by fear from Frollo and his fear of the outside world. Seeing her though, experiencing delight by seeing a place he loved so well, it pricked at his heart a bit and stirred something in his stomach. He shook himself, and waved to her to get her attention. Quasi felt bad breaking her away from this moment, but he wanted to be sure they saw the gypsy before they both dropped from exhaustion.

Belle spotted him, and then followed him up and up a narrow staircase into the bell tower. Quasi kept his rooms here when he was needed to stay overnights or for holiday masses, and he hoped to find both the Archdeacon and the gypsy there. He was not disappointed.

The Archdeacon stood solemnly in his white robes, his red skull cap stretched over his balding head. He was speaking quietly to the gypsy, her raven hair draped over one shoulder. Her goat was with her too, and pressed close to his owner. She was explaining something as they approached.

"…letting the crowd torture that poor boy? I thought if just one person could stand up to him then..."

The trio turned at the sound of Belle and Quasi's footsteps. Belle stopped, feeling intrusive and once again overwhelmed by her surroundings. The great bells of the Cathedral hung suspended around her, the moonlight and candles casting a silver sheen over them. Quasi went up to them.

"Good to see you made it back safely." The gypsy greeted him.

The Archdeacon smiled down at him and said "Quasimodo, I'm glad to see you here! Young Esmerelda has told me about the events of today, but you seem to be handling it well my boy. You look worse for wear though – I'll add you to my prayers tonight. Did you get my note?"

Quasi nodded. "I did, we came as soon as Victor told us."

The Archdeacon sighed. "Yes, well, it seems our friend here has gotten in trouble with Frollo's men, no surprise there. However, Captain Phoebus seems a good man," Esmerelda harrumphed at this but the Archdeacon ignored her, "and allowed her to seek shelter here. She has invoked Sanctuary, and I was wondering if she could stay here for the time being?"

"Of-of course! I have my own rooms anyway." He turned to Esmerelda. "Please, stay here. Consider it repayment for the debt I owe you for saving my life."

She laughed merrily "There's no debt at all! Consider it a favor for a new friend." She beamed down at him, and Quasi felt himself blush. He found himself going from hermit one day to married and friends of gypsies the next. What on earth was happening?

Her anklets and the bells on her skirt tinkled as she moved around the apartment. "Can Djali stay too?" she asked, gesturing to the shaggy goat with a pierced ear.

The Archdeacon looked uncomfortable with the thought of a barnyard animal in the cathedral, but said "I suppose. He is one of God's creatures after all. But please child, do not let him do anything…untoward here in the Cathedral, if you catch my meaning?"

The goat bleated indignantly, and scampered off to make himself comfortable on the small bed.

"He'll behave, I promise." She turned back to Quasimodo. "So, you ring the bells here? I bet that has to be one of the greatest jobs in the world!"

Quasi laughed nervously, and started to say something when the Archdeacon politely interrupted "Quasimodo, who is your friend over there?"

He gestured towards Belle, who was under one of the largest bells looking up to its inside. Quasi felt himself blush again.

He stammered out softly "Your Holiness, I think we may need to talk. That would Belle, my wife."


	13. Chapter 13

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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Belle could only catch a few words of the conversation going on as she explored the bells of Notre Dame. She could even walk and spin inside some of the largest ones!

But she was _tired_. A full day of exploring the manor, running out into the woods, coming back, and then rushing off the Notre Dame had left her exhausted. She was fairly certain she was just running on pure excitement. She wasn't even sure if she could make it back to the manor before her feet gave out from under her.

Eventually, as the others kept on their conversation, she crept over to the balcony.

She stifled a gasp. You could see all of Paris from up here! Even at night under the stars, she could traces the streets and see the lamps in a thousand windows! She had to write about this all later.

She leaned out over the stone railing, and rested her chin on her hand. _I could look at this forever, and never grow tired of the sight_ , she thought.

The gypsy's tinkling skirt alerted Belle to her presence. "First time to Paris?" Esmeralda asked, coming up next to Belle.

"Yes," she sighed, "though I would love to actually go into the city."

"What's stopping you then?"

"Well…" she hesitated. She wasn't sure if she should share her plans for eventually running away with anyone, especially a gypsy. She glanced over at Quasimodo, still talking to the Archdeacon. Now that she had met him, she wasn't sure of anything now.

The gypsy caught the look. "What is the story between the two of you anyway?"

Belle found herself wanting to open up to someone, anyone, about this strange situation she had found herself in. So, she sighed, leaned back on the rail to stare out at the city below, and began her story.

"This has to be one of the strangest stories I have ever heard, my child." The Archdeacon said, shaking his head in wonder. "So she was already married to you before you met her?"

"Yes, Frollo said my benefactor drew up the marriage contract for her."

"But then, you haven't signed it?"

"No, I… did I need to? I suppose I just assumed it was signed it for me."

The Archdeacon shook his head. "It was still not a marriage done in the sight of God, and legally you did not sign the contract, so at least by my judgement I believe this marriage is null. You do not have to be with this girl if you do not wish to be."

Quasi watched as the gypsy went over to Belle, who was taking in the view of Paris. Did he wish to not be with her? He had only known her for a day and half, if that. But still…

The Archdeacon coughed uncomfortably. "You have not consummated the marriage, have you?"

Quasimodo turned his head so fast he almost threw out his neck. " _What?_ No, no, it's not, I wouldn't, we've only known each other for about a day, I-" he tried to stammer out an answer. Hugo and Victor had told him about all he ever needed to know about those sorts of relations between a man and a woman, and he hadn't even considered that that may be expected of him as a husband. To be fair, he never thought he would be anyone's lover.

"I understand. Some men though are not as kind as you are, and would have forced her purely out of their right as a husband."

"But I don't know her!"

"Some men don't need to know their wives. Men at court do this all the time, and arranged marriages are quite common. No need to fret though. I think you're handling this as well as you can. Do you mind though, if I ask you one more thing?"

Quasi nodded, wondering what the Archdeacon was concocting behind his pious expression.

"It's true, you have only known her for a short while, but…have you come to care for the girl, in any way?"

Quasi felt his face grow hot as the hellfire Frollo would preach to him about. He looked down at his shoes, knowing he was silly to admit his growing feelings for the girl. He didn't even want to admit them, as they were so new and likely only caused by the fact she was one of the first girls his age he had ever spoken with.

"I see," said the Archdeacon, "well, I'll let you deal with it how you see fit. You could not tell her about the marriage and see what comes of it, in hopes that this bond could lead to something more. But personally, it is right to be honest in God's eyes, and you would do well to remember this. I will say no more, I leave it to your discretion."

Quasi nodded, and the Archdeacon patted him paternally on the back. As the Archdeacon retreated back down the stairs, Quasi glanced back over at the women.

Spending his life watching people from the bell tower, he had come to appreciate watching people undisturbed and reflecting on people's uniqueness. It helped him when it came to sculpting his figures back at home.

He had to admit, even in his limited experience, the gypsy Esmeralda was breathtakingly beautiful. There was something majestic about her, like the depictions of angels he saw in the stained glass windows. She carried herself as if she were Queen of all France, and there was something about that confidence that Quasi wished he could imitate.

Belle, on the other hand, had a different kind of beauty Quasi realized. Not as stunning as the gypsy, but still captivating in her own right. There was a grace to her that could go unnoticed unless someone was paying attention, but once you saw it, it was hard to ignore. Her brown eyes also changed, and could go from the color of varnished wood to rich honey depending on the light.

He had seen plenty of lovers walk down below on the streets of Paris, seeming to bask in Heaven's light as they looked into each other's eyes. He knew, deep down, that he would never know that type of feeling…that is, until now.

He wasn't sure if it was the fact they were both prisoners in the manor together, or something else, but he was drawn to Belle. Esmeralda had saved him though, and he still felt nervous and giddy in her presence. Belle on the other hand seemed to do the opposite. In the brief moments they had together he had felt almost at peace.

He shook his head, scolding himself. Neither of these women would ever see him more than a friend, and even that in and of itself was a blessing. He had experienced both their compassion, and that was more than he ever thought he would receive from two strangers. As he watched them both in the moonlight, he for once felt truly blessed in his life.

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 **Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone keeping up with the story and reading along, you all make my day! ~ hestia273**


	14. Chapter 14

**Happy Halloween everyone! Enjoy this holiday treat :)**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belong to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

* * *

Eventually exhaustion seeped through every inch of Belle's body, and she bid Esmeralda farewell and followed Quasimodo silently back to the manor. Victor greeted them at the door, and informed them that Frollo had yet to show back up.

Both nodded in relief, thanked him, and then after Victor left, they turned to each other.

They both started talking at the same time, then stopped and both blushed.

Belle started again. "I'm sorry this is so awkward, we've sort of both been thrown into this mess together and we don't even really know each other."

Quasimodo chuckled softly. "Yes, I suppose so. We haven't even really introduced ourselves properly, have we?"

"No, I guess not." She smiled then, and curtsied low. "Mademoiselle Belle Lefevre, at your service. Or, well, I guess Madame now. What _is_ your last name?"

Quasimodo scratched the back of his neck, and said "Would you believe me if I said I don't have one? At least none that I know of. But I'm Quasimodo, though you can call me Quasi."

He bowed as gallantly as he could, and stretched out his hand to her like he had seen in some of the paintings of gents and ladies in the Library. He was shocked though when Belle hesitantly placed her hand in his.

"I'm glad to meet you, Monsieur Quasimodo. Honestly, I am. I wasn't expecting to find any friends here. That is, well, I hope we can be friends."

Quasi gave her hand the slightest squeeze. "I hope so too."

They bid each other goodnight, and went off to their respective rooms, both exhausted but elated that they had found an ally.

Belle jolted awake again from the same dream, still smelling the scent of smoke, metal, and cinnamon of her papa's workshop. He had been working on a second rose, this one made of copper, and had given her the same warning as before.

She cradled her head in her hands, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The events of the past few days were still unreal to her, and she wished they had been the dream and her papa breathing again a reality.

"Get it together, Belle. It's a new day, so live it as full as you can" She told herself fiercely.

It was the same saying she had said for many months after her Papa's death. She knew he wouldn't want to live out the rest of her life lying in bed crying her eyes out over him (though there were plenty of days of that). He would want her to enjoy every moment life had to offer, so that's what she would aim to do.

Today she decided to select one of the new gowns in her wardrobe. Most were a bit too gaudy for her taste, but she found a simple green gown that suited her nicely. It was still towards the beginning of autumn, and the slight chill in the air called for the mid length sleeves this dress offered.

After dressing and fixing up her hair up as nicely as she could, she went back to the kitchen. Laverne and Quasimodo were already there, setting places for all of them for breakfast.

"Bonjour" she said as she entered. Quasi, startled by her sudden appearance, tripped and dropped the tray of silverware.

Laverne started in on a firm scolding and joined Belle as they both got to their knees to help Quasimodo pick up the utensils. She glanced his way, and felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards at his blush. For how unique (she would not let herself think grotesque) his features were, they were extremely expressive.

Quasi stumbled out an apology, and once everything was set the trio sat down for breakfast. After Laverne said grace, Belle asked "Where are Hugo and Victor? Shouldn't we wait for them?"

"No no dearie, they grabbed a bite to eat earlier this morning. They set off a few hours ago to collect a few loads of firewood for the manor. With winter just around the corner we don't want to get caught off guard, and let me tell you, this manor can be a palace of ice when it snows!"

Quasimodo nodded. "Both Frollo and I tend to stay in Paris for longer periods of time, if anything to conserve firewood here."

Laverne gave him a look. "You shouldn't have to. It's even colder in that tower than it is here!"

"Someone has to watch over the bells, especially if a freeze sets in."

"But why must it be _your_ job? Quasi, I just don't think…"

The argument went back and forth, and Belle got the feeling this wasn't the first time Laverne and Quasimodo had had this discussion. She sat back and sipped her tea, enjoying the show. It reminded her of arguments she used to get in with her mama, back before her papa had died.

She realized that Laverne was probably the closest thing Quasimodo had to a mother, and she felt suddenly shy to be sitting there. As quickly as they had all seemed to warm up to her, she was still a stranger in this manor. It had only been a few days since she had arrived. Granted, a very dramatic and busy few days, but still.

"…Belle? Dear?"

Her head snapped up, and she realized Laverne and Quasimodo were both looking at her.

"What? I'm so sorry, my mind must have wandered off somewhere."

"Hmph. Just like someone else I know. I was asking what you thought of Notre Dame?"

"Oh! It's absolutely stunning, I've never seen anything like it! You have no idea how lucky you are to work there," she added, turning to Quasimodo. He looked away, but smiled faintly.

There was a brief lapse in the conversation as they trio finished up their breakfast. Laverne started to fuss over Quasimodo's injuries and went about retying his bandages, and Belle got up to put her plate in the sink. Soon though, they could hear pounding feet coming down the corridor. Hugo skidded to the door frame and stopped himself, gasping "Frollo is on his way back!"

With those words, the kitchen erupted into chaos. Victor, who was right behind Hugo, joined Laverne in cleaning up the kitchen and grabbing dusters and rags. Hugo had grabbed Quasimodo's arm, and started to drag him back towards the West Wing. Quasimodo turned as they left, and looked as if he was about to say something before Hugo pulled him out of sight.

Belle stood in the midst of all this, unsure what to do and gripped by fear. The last time she had faced Frollo was…unsettling, to say the least. She rubbed her bruised wrist at the memory.

However, she was _technically_ the lady of the manor, and the meant living up to certain expectations and duties. If she were to win both her and Quasimodo's freedom eventually, she would have to see what types of games this man played, even if the thought of being near him made her squeamish.

She clapped her hands sharply, startling both Victor and Laverne. She looked at them both resolutely, and said "Do you usually receive him at the door, as you received me and my company?"

Laverne only nodded. "Alright then," Belle said, taking in a deep breath to calm her palpitating heart. "Let's greet him then. Shall we?"

Victor and Laverne shared a look, and followed Belle as she made her way to the main doors.

The stood out in the chilly morning for a while, Laverne by her side as she anxiously tried to smooth down her skirts. Soon, from the steps she could see Frollo's black stallion making its way to the gates. Victor was there to pull the gates open, and leaped back so as not to get caught under the horse's hoofs.

He reared up before the steps, and glowered down at the women. He sneered "I see you have deigned to stay, Madame."

Belle met his gaze evenly. "Of course, monsieur. While I regret that I had to disobey your orders once more, I felt as if I must return."

She curtsied deeply then, thinking that ridiculous court manors may actually help her in this. "I apologize for my behavior earlier. It was most inconsiderate and I most humbly ask for your forgiveness."

Of course she was lying through her teeth and she had to bite back a note of sarcasm, but she figured that subservience would do her well. She had heard what Esmeralda did when confronted with this man, and she wished she had her gypsy friend's sharp tongue. She would work on that, but for now, she could strategize and beguile to figure out what this man was playing at before launching an attack. _It's just a chess match, that's all,_ she told herself.

She did not rise until she heard Frollo dismount. When she met his eyes, she could not quite discern he look in his eyes. He stared down at her for a few seconds, and then said coldly "We have not properly welcomed you yet to the house. You will join me for dinner tonight, and that is not a request."

He swept past her and slammed the doors behind her. There was a beat of silence, and then Laverne whistled lowly. "I don't know what your game playing at dearie, but I hope you know what you're doing."

Belle sunk down to sit on the steps and rubbed her temples. "I hope so too."

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 **So yeah, probably no wonderful "Be Our Guest" number with enchanted dishware in this story. Again, I'm still trying to play with the "who is the monster, who is the man" aspects of both of these tales. Hope it's all making sense! Review?**


	15. Chapter 15

**HAPPY NEW YEAR! Sorry it's taken me a century to update, but between the end of the semester, research papers, and holidays with family, I've been swamped. BUT! I have returned, and I hope to post a lot more regularly this year, at least once every two weeks if not once every week. Hope the New Year is treating you well already!**

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Laverne was not joking about the formal dinner. As Belle continued to get ready, she could hear Laverne ordering Victor and Hugo about, and from the sounds in the kitchen it sounded as she was preparing 27 different courses for the occasion.

She had chosen a rich dark red gown from her new wardrobe tonight, mostly because she felt confident wearing it, and that was something she would need in abundance if she were going to make it through tonight.

From her limited time with Frollo, he seemed to favor piety and obedience above most things. If she were going to combat him in her own way, she would have to be clever with how she presented herself. Her mama had taught her many strategies on how to capture a prince's attention after all, and she had also seen how using these stratagems worked in other situations in life.

When getting bread from the perpetually grumpy baker, she figured out that she should go at a specific time of day and ask for his wife, Marie, instead.

When dealing with the girls in town, she figured out that as long as she kept them talking about themselves, they would not pry into her own affairs.

The only two people she had felt completely at ease with were her Papa and the bookseller in town. She hoped maybe one day she could get that way with Quasimodo, but the awkwardness between them seemed to be becoming a wider gulf every time they were apart. She hadn't seen him at all since that morning, and wondered what he was up to. Or, more importantly, if Frollo had payed him a visit since arriving.

Victor knocked on her door then. "Dinner is served, Madame." He said formally.

She placed the last pin in her curls, and called out "Thank you, Victor. I'll be out in a moment."

She assessed herself in the mirror, and secured her matching red ribbon in her half up twist. "Well, this is as good as it's going to get," she muttered softly to herself.

Making her way over to the door and then following Victor to the dining room, she ran through multiple scenarios in her head. Frollo's grip on her wrist, the cruel gleam in his eyes as he pushed her out the door…those were not easily forgotten. But she had stood up to a prince, what made this man any different?

The fire crackled in the hearth, but the dining room still held an icy atmosphere. Frollo sat at one end of the table, fingertips pressed together almost in an attitude of prayer. Belle took her seat on the other end, and waited for Frollo to speak.

It wasn't until many minutes later, when Laverne laid out the first course, that Frollo opened is mouth and intoned a common blessing over the meal. Belle immediately turned her eyes down, and clasped her hands together in her lap, but said another prayer altogether in her head. _Lord, please give me the strength and courage and cunning I need to set us free. Amen._

For the next several minutes, all that could be heard was the clinking of silverware against the dishes as the pair tasted the soup course. Belle finally got up the courage to ask "Won't Monsieur Quasimodo be joining us?"

"He prefers to take his meals in his room." Frollo said as he sipped from his wine.

 _Oh does he now?_ Belle thought. "Such a shame then," she replied, "I was rather hoping we could clear away the awkward mess we seem to have found ourselves in."

Frollo quirked an eyebrow, but maintained his usual glower. "And what mess would that be?"

"Why, me actually meeting my husband of course! And I suppose staying at the manor. I do apologize again, but you see, there's nowhere else for me to go. I cannot very well go back to court, and-"

"We do not speak of court here, and you would do well to hold your tongue madame."

Belle sipped her wine, and noted to ask Laverne about this later. "Of course, monsieur."

The meal continued in silence for a while. Then a thought occurred to Belle.

"Do you have any news from the city? You must know a lot about Paris, being the great Minister of Justice."

This topic of conversation seemed to please Frollo, and he started going into great deal about the dreadful lower class, the Huguenots, and most of all, gypsies.

"One in fact got away from me and is currently hiding in a church no less, the heathen. She is not even fit to scrub the floors of Notre Dame, let alone claim sanctuary there. I have your Captain, Phoebus, guarding her now. She'll have to come out eventually, and when she does she will regret the day she was born."

He said this as if saying the weather looked like it would be sunny for the next week. Belle shuddered to think what he would actually _do_ to Esmeralda if he caught her.

He must have seen her blanch at his words, so he assured her "You must understand, madame, that most of Paris consists of a common, vulgar, weak licentious crowd. It is my sacred duty to purge that fair city of filth and reclaim its holy glory."

"Is your duty not to Quasimodo then? As his tutor?"

"Oh I take care of the boy as if he were my own. Though, his mental handicaps and other ailments will mean he can never be amongst the common folk, but I think that is for the best, would you not agree?" He gave her a look then, as if this answer would determine whether or not he locked her up too.

Belle decided to be as diplomatic as possible. "I have seen what the people of Paris did to him, and I cannot say that I entirely disagree with your opinion."

They lapsed into silence once more, and Belle noticed Frollo assessing her throughout the next two courses. Finally putting down his fork, he asked "And what of your soul? I trust you were baptized in the Catholic church?"

"Yes, monsieur. I was born on Saint Belina's Feast Day, but I have yet to claim a patron saint, though I do admire St. Francis of Assisi's work."

Frollo almost smiled and nodded approvingly. "I shall have you accompany me to Mass then this coming Sunday. You will get to see a little bit of Paris, and maintain your standing with the church."

Belle stared at him. "Could I not attend with Quasimodo? You must understand, I have spoken with him and I know he also attends Mass up in the balcony."

He set his glass down sharply. "No, out of the question. We will simply introduce you as a relative of mine from Lyon or Nice, and not shame you publically for your marriage."

Belle fumed at those words (did no one see Quasimodo as just another human being with feelings like the rest of them?), but before she could reply, Frollo said "You must understand, ma Cherie, that you are welcome in Paris anytime so long as your with me."

He got up then, and strode over to where she was sitting. He notched one cold finger under her chin and forced her to look at him.

"I see a great deal of promise in you. Do not disobey me again." His touch lingered as he slide his finger away from her face, causing the wine in Belle's stomach to curdle.

She watched as he fingered her hair ribbon, and then he seemed to catch himself.

"Goodnight then." He called as he strode out the door.

Once he was out of sight, Belle rubbed her chin fiercely trying to erase his touch. It was much like another man she knew, and goodness knows she was not going to go through another Gaston situation anytime soon.

Up in his rooms, Frollo splashed cold water onto his face and muttered another prayer in Latin. For some reason, he found himself drawn to the girl. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her demure little frame, and was overwhelmed with the need to possess her.

"I am simply taking her under my guidance. There is nothing sinful about that." He told himself quietly.

He walked over to his window, and looked out on the lights of Paris.

" _Beata Maria_ ," he prayed, "you know I am a righteous man. Of my virtue, I am justly proud. Keep me above the vulgarities of the common man."

But, even though he would not remember them in the morning, his dreams told a different tale.

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 **Quick Note: So I'm not Catholic, but I'm trying my best to be as accurate as possible. Forgive me if there's any weird slip-ups (but this is also fairytale Catholicism, so maybe things work differently?)**

 **Review?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey folks! I have a big project due this week so I won't be able to update for about two weeks. Thanks for your patience!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney or Victor Hugo.**

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The weeks started to pass in a blur, and soon a routine was set in place. More often than not, Belle would have her meals alone with Frollo, and attempt to make halting conversation. She would accompany him to Mass, but would avoid him at all other times. She did not trust his leering looks, nor his false piety.

When she wasn't forced to be near Frollo or attend him, she would help Laverne, Hugo, and Victor around the house. She also made a point to visit Esmeralda at least once a week, and give her a basket of food and other things she requested, or take her goat back to the manor for a while to get some fresh air (though hiding a rambunctious goat from Frollo was harder than she expected). Soon she started running into Captain Phoebus too, and was intrigued by the odd friendship forming between him and the gypsy.

As far as Quasimodo went, she didn't see him as much as the others on a daily basis, but whenever she had a spare moment, it was he she sought out the most. When Frollo went away for a time, Belle would wind up in the West Wing and she and Quasimodo would talk on all manner of subjects until the fire in the hearth died away. She was starting to get used to the way he looked, and while they grew closer, neither of them brought up the fact that they were actually married.

Instead, they spent more time getting to know one another, and as the weather got colder and Quasimodo would spend less time in the Cathedral, their time together increased even more.

It wasn't until the Library, however, that Quasimodo realized he was falling in love with her.

It happened on a normal winter's day a bit before Christmas, and they were seated together by the hearth, Belle reading aloud from one of the plays she had brought with her.

"'Only let me hear sometimes, all alone, The distant laughter of your joy!...'"

Quasi sighed at the words. He loved listening to her voice, the way it carried him away from the manor and his worries. Quietly she closed the book, and sat, staring at the fire.

Quasi shifted from his reclined position. "What's wrong?"

She kept staring at the fire. "I feel so silly sometimes, reading these aloud. My papa was a much better storyteller than I, and my mama does not care for fiction. I'm sorry if I'm bothering you."

"What? No, not at all! I…I enjoy it a lot, actually."

Belle looked at him and smiled then. He was caught off guard nowadays at how open her smile had become.

"Well, in that case, I'm sorry I have so little material to read from, since I have such an enthusiastic audience. I've only brought a few books with me, and after this you've heard all of them."

Quasi sat up straight then. "We'll get something from the Library then, I'm sure we can find something you'll like."

Belle's face lit up like it was already Christmas morning. "You have a library?"

"Yes! I can't believe no one has shown it to you yet. Follow me!"

He loped off with Belle trailing behind him. He had to admit to himself, he still felt insecure in her presence. Sure, she was the first real friend his age that he had ever had (besides maybe Esmeralda), but he knew he was a monster and that she was probably just as disgusted with him as everyone else was. She was just better at hiding it.

Still, he couldn't help himself at trying to make this special for her. He had never seen her so excited about anything, and he wanted to keep that bright look in her eyes for as long as possible.

Once they got to the door, he paused. He turned around, and smiling told Belle "Now, close your eyes. And don't peak!"

She quirked an eyebrow at him, but closed them all the same.

He waved a hand in front of her face, just to double check, then threw the doors open. He gently grasped her hands, and pulled her inside. His stomach was doing somersaults, and he noticed that, for the first time, she did not shudder or flinch at his touch.

"Now wait right here," he said, giving her hands a small squeeze before running to the windows. He threw back the curtains, letting the shining winter light fill the room.

Belle could tell the change in light even with her eyes closed, and asked "Can I open my eyes now?"

Once the final window was open and Quasi was back in the center of the room with Belle, he said "All right…now!"

Belle eyes flew open, and she gasped in amazement. All around her were books, shelves upon shelves upon _shelves_ of books! They soared up two stories, all the way into the ceiling! Cozy couches and writing desks were all about the room, and the sunlight lit up the dust like thousands of stars.

"I've never seen so many books in all my life!" she murmured.

Quasi watched, captivated, as unrestrained joy lit up her features. He tenderly asked her "…do you like it?"

Her hands were raised up to her lips, eyes wide in astonishment. "It's wonderful."

"Then it's yours."

"What?" She turned and looked at him, stunned.

He shuffled his feet, but met her eyes firmly. "I may not have much to give you, and I know we've both been thrown into this…this situation together. Frollo never comes here and I only take books occasionally when I have time. I would rather someone be here who loves the books as much as you do."

He added silently _I would also do anything to see you so happy every day, and if this room can do that, then it's yours._

"Well thank you. Thank you very much!" She exclaimed, coming up to him and clasping her hands with his.

He was struck how she didn't shudder at his touch anymore, and even took his hands of her own accord. He gently squeezed them, and then reluctantly released them.

"I should be going. I need to head out to the Cathedral to ring the bells for this evening's mass."

Belle nodded, and went back to looking around the room in wonder.

He picked up a book on one of the side tables. "This one here is my favorite, if you'd like to start somewhere."

Belle took the book, and although she had already read it before, she smiled and said "Thank you."

Quasi headed out after then, mulling over the day's events as he traversed the tunnels. He was distracted all afternoon and evening as he did his rounds with the Bells, until Esmeralada, who had been watching him, called him out.

"Alright Quasi, what's up?"

"Huh?"

"You've been distracted all day. You'll at least try to make conversation with me or chatter about the bells or other nonsense things." She smiled teasingly, and her goat bleated in agreement.

Quasi slumped and sat down, cradling his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do, Esmeralda. Can I be completely honest with you?"

With a flare of her skirts she sat down in front of him, Djali coming over and resting his head in her lap. "Of course, Quasimodo. You've let me stay here for a month and a half, it's the least I can do."

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's…about Belle."

Esmeralda smiled knowingly then. "Shall I be wishing you joy soon?" she said in a fake posh voice. "Or, well, I suppose that wouldn't make sense since you're already married."

"No, it's just…I realized today that I think I'm falling in love with her." His voice got quieter until the last words were barely a whisper.

Esmeralda clapped her hands together. "That's wonderful!"

"No, it's not!" he practically shouted, looking at her desperately.

She cocked her head to one side, waiting for him to continue.

He ran a hand through his hair, and the words came tumbling out of him "I may love her, but she could never love me back. I mean look at me! Why would she want to spend the rest of her days with a creature like me? I'm a monster."

He sighed, dejected, and stared at the rough planks of the floor. "How could anyone love someone as hideous as me. I would do anything, _anything_ to make her smile like she did today, but I know that she could never feel the same towards me."

Esmeralda was silent for a moment, then she stuck out her hand. "Give me your hand." She demanded.

"What?"

"Just let me see it."

Hesitantly, Quasi reached his large, roughened hand out towards Esmeralda. She grabbed it, pulling him closer, and squinted as she traced the lines on Quasi's palm.

After a moment's inspection, Esmeralda said "Hmm. A long life line. Oh, and this one means you're shy. Hmm…" Esmeralda hummed to herself, then said "Well that's funny."

"What?"

"I don't see any…"

" _Any what?_ "

She met his gaze, a small smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. "Monster lines. Not a single one."

Quasi gazed down at his own hand, trying to see what the gypsy had. It did look like an ordinary hand, he had to admit. But could these hands be something Belle could find beauty in?

Brushing away thoughts of Belle, he turned back to Esmeralada.

"You helped me, now I'm going to help you. You've been stuck here for far too long."

"But all the doors are guarded, how will we…?"

"We won't use a door."

As Quasi helped the gypsy and her goat flee into the darkened streets of Paris, only a certain captain saw them, and he followed at a distance to make sure they made their escape safely.

At the manor, two more petals fell from the Enchanted Rose.

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 **The play I quote from is Cyrano de Bergerac, which I've used before in this story. It's a bit like Beauty and the Beast, so I thought it'd be appropriate.**

 **Review?**


	17. Chapter 17

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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The next Sunday, Frollo and Belle were approached by a ravishing lady encompassed in a cloud of taffeta. Belle kept her observation to herself that she looked rather silly, and especially overdressed for Mass. She kept her head down and her hands clasped demurely in front of her while Frollo made a sweeping bow to the lady.

"Madame Point de Farr, what an absolute pleasure."

She tittered as he kissed the back of her hand. "Monsieur Frollo, the pleasure is all mine! But I'm here strictly on business. The Court can never get a hold of you in your quiet manor out of town, so I'm here to deliver a _personal_ invitation. It would be our greatest pleasure if you and your lovely _cousine_ would join us at our Christmas Ball tomorrow evening!"

Her voice was so high and grating Belle wished she could make some snide comment about rusty hinges to Quasimodo. But then, he was up away, ringing the bells, and of course this invitation would never extend to him.

Frollo bowed again. "We would be delighted to accept, Madame."

She continued to "grace" their presence while making amiable comments about the weather, the fashions of court, and so on and so forth. Belle focused on the bells ringing in her ears, thinking of Quasimodo swinging from rope to rope, a carefree smile lighting up his face. She felt the corners of her own mouth tugging up a bit at the image, and a strange fluttering feeling began beneath her rib cage.

"Mademoiselle?"

She looked up abruptly, to find Frollo staring down at her and the Madame gone. She gulped, and replied evenly "Yes, monsieur?"

"When we return, have Laverne air out the ball gown that was purchased for you. Have a fitting to make sure you won't cause a scene. That was the _mayor's_ wife, I must make a good impression and therefore so will you."

She nodded, a little bewildered at the thought of her first formal ball being under such circumstances.

Frollo placed a hand on her back and lead her away from the after-service throng. She ignored the stares and gossip as she passed. She knew what they said behind her back, the rumors around her mysterious appearance, that she may not actually be his relative, and some rumors even more foul that she did not care to think upon.

The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of activity, for most of which Belle stood in her bedroom and was ordered not to move. Laverne bustled about, pins stuck in her mouth and ribbons wound around her arms and neck, muttering about how Frollo expected miracles in short order. Belle stood still, her new ball gown draped over her small frame and cinched in with clothespins as Laverne made adjustments. She even took dinner in her room, thankfully avoiding Frollo's presence for the evening.

She fell into bed exhausted, not even having the energy to go to the Library to pick out a new book, nor to see Quasimodo. At that thought a little pang shot through her heart. Just at the verge of sleep she realized that, though it had only been a day or two, she missed him.

Laverne let Belle sleep in just a bit before waking her up and practically force-feeding her a hearty breakfast. Belle was to be pampered, Laverne informed her, so that she would be as radiant as a blooming flower for the ball tonight.

After a soak in lavender speckled water and rubbing some scented clay into her skin, Belle felt that while she may not look like a "blooming flower," she at least smelled like one.

After a light tea, Belle was again put through the torture of pretending to be a statue while Laverne flitted about, powdering her face and pulling up her hair.

Finally, _finally_ , she put on the ball gown and the dancing slippers, and would have let out a sigh of relief if her corset would have let her. She begged Laverne not to cinch it too tightly, but the old woman had cackled and said something about showing off her lovely figure.

Feeling a bit nervous and unsteady on her feet, she decided to seek out Quasimodo. She hoped he wouldn't be at the Cathedral, because if anyone could calm her nerves before spending a whole night alone in Frollo's company, it'd be him.

She knocked tentatively on his door, and she heard a muffled reply. Opening the door, she saw Quasi hunched over his workbench, carving a new miniature with such care that it captivated Belle. As a child, she had loved watching her Papa bring something new to life with his inventions. She realized she felt the same way when she watched Quasi work.

He brushed off his figure, and turning he said "I was hoping you'd swing by, I wanted to show -" but stopped, dead still, when he beheld Belle.

She was dressed in a gown of pure sunlight, buttery yellow silk draped across her shoulders, hugging her waist, and flowing out in voluminous tiered skirts. Her hair, pulled most of the way up except for one ringlet curling around her neck fetchingly (a new word Laverne had introduced him too. He couldn't help but notice her vocabulary lessons were on a distinct trend of late). He had always found her beautiful, but it was if someone had applied a varnish so she _glowed._

He stood up, and she came towards him, her skirts swishing away wood shavings as they met halfway.

One look at Quasi's face, and a blush started to spread under the light dusting of powder on her face. She looked down, avoiding his gaze. "That bad, is it?"

"NO, _no_ , I - I just…That is, I want…" he sighed, cursing his bumbling tongue. "You…you look beautiful, Belle."

Those words didn't do near enough justice, but her eyes flew up to his and a wide smile broke out on her face. "Thank you, Quasimodo."

Then an idea came to her. "I may need to practice a little, I'm not sure I'm ready to dance in a costume like this. Do you know how to dance?" If a little voice spoke in the back of her head suggesting that it wasn't just for practice, she ignored it, telling herself she was just being friendly.

Quasi backed a step away, hands out in front of him and a riotous blush spreading across his face. "Oh no, Frollo never taught me and, and I'm not sure I would be any good. You don't want to dance with me."

"Of course I do! Here, I'll teach you."

She stepped up to him, her skirts enveloping his feet. Gently, she took his hands in her silk gloved ones, and he gulped as she placed one of his hands on her waist. The other she held out, clasping his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. She smiled at him, then instructed where to place his feet and counted off.

He tripped a few times, over her skirts and over his own feet, but despite his protests he caught the rhythm and soon enough they were gliding across the aerie together. Wood shavings swirled around them, and Belle started humming a tune she had heard during the last country ball she had attended when her papa was alive.

Quasi closed his eyes, trying to commit every moment to memory. The feel of Belle in his arms, the tune she was humming, all of it, so that when she came to her senses and left this place, he could dwell upon these thoughts and be happy.

That, unfortunately, caused him not to watch where he was going, and he stepped on Belle's skirts. She started to fall, and as he attempted to catch her, he ended losing his footing and pulling her on top of him as they fell to the ground.

The wind knocked out of them both, they lay there, stock still, gazing into each other's eyes. It was Belle who laughed first, letting out a snort before bursting into pure laughter, and it was contagious enough that Quasi started to laugh to. Quasi rolled to one side, and they lay like that, laughing and blithe until Belle curled in just a bit closer, steadying herself as she giggled by placing a gentle hand on Quasimodo's shoulder.

Quasi's breath hitched in his throat at the touch, his laughter fading away. Her eyes were squeezed shut as the giggles escaped, her breath coming in little gasps in between. He just stared at her, wondering what a girl like Belle was even doing with him. He was tired of wondering though. Gathering his nerve, he reached up a hand, as if he would gently caress her cheek. He wondered if she would shy away, scoff, smirk, or…if she might even…

He never would find out, because they both heard Laverne's tell-tale stomp coming up the stairs. Quickly Belle sat up, Quasi pulling her to her feet. They both tried to brush off as much wood shavings as they could before Laverne burst through the doors, exclaiming " _There_ you are, I've been worried sick! Come now, it's time to head off. Frollo's already waiting in the carriage!"

Belle nodded, taking the wrap Laverne carried, and cast Quasimodo a small smile before hurrying down the stairs behind Laverne. Quasi, however, caught sight of one wood shaving clinging to the back of her skirts, and small smile tugged quirked his mouth at the thought of a little piece of him going with her to the ball.

"Good luck, _ma cœur_." He whispered into the empty air.

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 **Hello lovely readers! Hope you're enjoying the story so far (I mean you've stuck around so far, so it can't be too terrible, right?). Leave a review and let me know what you think!**

 _ma cœur =_ **My heart. If I get this or any other French in this story wrong I apologize, my two semesters of French only taught me so much!**


	18. Chapter 18

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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The carriage ride was a study in awkward silence for Belle. The entire way to the Mayor's mansion, Frollo glared out the window and made no comment. Belle twisted her fingers, biting her lip and going through dances she learned in her head.

Of course her small town held country balls when they could, but those were small affairs where you simply wore a favorite outfit and danced with as many people as possible. The baker would bring leftover pastries from the day, Farmer Lafeyette would bring in cider, and the whole community got together to clear out an open space. It was absolutely lovely, and many happy memories from her childhood were from such events.

This, she knew, would be nothing like those happy affairs. As they approached the drive, Belle caught glimpses of other carriages, some even gilt in gold! She bit her lip, her nerves lighting up her insides and making her feel a bit nauseous, because there had been something nagging at her since the invitation.

Was there a chance that Prince Gaston would be in attendance?

She dismissed it every time she thought it, thinking that the heir to the French throne would be off talking to dignitaries, or trying to seduce other unfortunate girl's whose mother's made arrangements for tea.

The carriage jerked to a halt, and Victor, playing the role of carriage driver and footman tonight, stood at attendance after opening the small door. Belle took Victor's hand and he helped her down, whispering "Good luck tonight, madame!"

Belle inclined her head slightly, her eyes sweeping around the front of the mansion as she drank it all in. Perfume, sweat, and horse smell permeated the air, and the clamor of all the voices from the assembled nobility waiting their turn to enter made her head swim.

Frollo appeared next to her, descending from the carriage like a giant crow, and offered his arm to Belle. Knowing better than to rebuke him in public, she took his arm and followed him in the crowd. She repeated to herself over and over that this was still an attempt to get on his good side in order to win her and Quasi's freedom. In fact, she wondered if tonight would even be the best time to bring that up to Frollo. He was at least unlikely to make a scene in a crowded ballroom.

Frollo leaned to whisper in the herald's ear, and in a tinny voice the man shouted "Monsieur Claude Frollo, Minister of Justice, and his cousin, Mademoiselle Belle Lefevre!"

A small cluster of people, the ones closest to the herald who could actually hear above the chatter from the ball room, made polite bows in their direction. Belle saw a few ladies eye her up and down, tittering and laughing behind their fans.

Frollo ushered her past the doorway and into the ballroom itself. Belle felt truly like a peasant then, gaping slack-jawed at the opulence of the room. From the gold marble floors, crystal chandeliers (three even!) and painted frescos all the way to the top of the arched ceiling, it sight of it all stole her breath.

She studied everything, committing it to memory to write and sketch later, for her own sake and for Quasimodo's. That brought back a rush of memories from earlier that afternoon. His strong arms guiding her gently across the attic floor, his laughter, as uninhibited as it had ever been…she felt her own cheeks warming slightly, and took out her fan.

Frollo spoke then. "I must meet with the mayor and some other notable figures of the Paris Court, but I do not wish to bore you. Enjoy the revelry, if you can, and I shall find you later."

He pressed a cold kiss to her gloved hand, and disappeared into the crowd. Belle gulped, not entirely sure what to do with herself, until a hand caught her arm.

She whirled around, her skirts flaring, and found herself looking at a familiar face.

"Lady Girardeau! What and unexpectedly pleasant surprise!" She curtsied, and smiled at the lady-in-waiting. The gesture was not returned.

Instead she grabbed Belle's arm and pulled her into an enjoining room. "What are you doing here?" she seethed.

Alarmed and not a little perplexed, Belle took a step back and puller herself out of her vice-like grip. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Madame."

"You are supposed to be avoiding the eyes of the court, you idiot, not drawing the eye of every man in the room! The Prince is here somewhere, along with the King, and you can't let them see you! He was told that you were banished to the Rhineland!"

Belle blanched. Gaston, here? "I must leave then. That man who was sent to look after me, Claude Frollo, he's the one who brought me here. I had no say in the matter."

The older woman gave her a curious stare. After an assessing moment, she said "I believe you, but I'm not sure the Royal Family will. Surely Monsieur Frollo would have been given instructions to keep you away from such functions as this?"

"I assume so, with the strict hold he's had over me and other residents in that manor. Only recently did he allow me to attend Mass. I'm not even sure he knows the King is here, to be frank."

"Not many do," she said, still guiding Belle further into a back corner of the room. "He's in council with the Mayor, and I believe he'll make an appearance later to boost morale of the nobles gathered here. From what I hear around the palace, things are worse than ever for France. It's only a matter of time before the famine makes its way to Paris, and we are pillaged from all sides. Spain is already invading territories to the west!"

Shocked, Belle could only stare at her before replying to this bit of news. "I…I had no idea. I'm kept away most of time, and do not often receive news from the outside world."

"And there's more I must tell you, the King-"

"Ahhhh, Monsieur's Frollo's _cousine_ , how ravishing you look in the dress! Why I could just eat you up!"

It was the Mayor's wife, in a gown so tiered and jeweled she resembled a frosted cake more than a lady. She curtsied slightly to Lady Girardeau, and grabbed Belle's arm.

"But what are you doing crammed into this stuffy room? No, it will not do! I must see you dance! There are plenty of eligible bachelors invited tonight, you are bound to catch one of their eyes, no?"

She kept rambling in this manner as she pulled Belle away, Lady Girardeau calling something out to her that she couldn't make out from the general cacophony.

Belle was handed a glass of champagne by the lady, and introduced to about five men all at once. She nodded and sipped at the drink politely, letting the Mayor's wife do most of the talking, until a booming laugh cut across the noise from the other side of the room. She whirled around, spilling a few drops of champagne on the marble floor, hoping against hope that it wasn't - that it _couldn't_ be - but it was worse than she thought. The dancers gave the couple a wide berth, so Belle was able to see them both more clearly than she would have preferred.

It was Prince Gaston.

And he was dancing with her mother.

In all of Belle novels, she had never imagined something as fantastical or as hard to believe as the sight before her. She had to blink and pinch herself before she realized it wasn't an illusion created by her own anxiety. The others turned to see what she saw, and the Mayor's wife gave a little shriek.

"Why, it's the dauphin! Oh well, I guess the secret is out." She leaned in towards Belle, her fan hiding her mouth as she whispered in her ear, "That's the King's new mistress he's dancing with, you know. Such a lovely figure, ooh I am jealous!"

Belle only nodded and made no comment. It was all too much. She was almost thankful when she felt a tap on her arm and turned to see Frollo standing at her side.

"Might I have the next dance, mademoiselle?"

Belle nodded, and he guided her towards the other couples occupying the floor. If he noticed the Prince, he made no acknowledgment. The music struck up from the quartet in the corner, and he swept her away.

He was a good dancer, she had to admit, even if he held her a bit closer than she was comfortable with. She stared at his chest, not wanting to make eye contact.

"You look lovely tonight, _ma Cherie_."

She shuddered, an unpleasant tingling sensation dripping down her spine. "Thank you, sir." She said firmly, willing for the musicians to pick up the speed.

His fingers caressed her hand, skimming along the surface of her gloved palm. She willed herself to keep dancing and not flee. If she was going to address the freedom issue, it would be now. If anything, it might make him annoyed enough to send her away from this wretched place.

"Monsieur, you have been more than kind to me during my stay at the manor house."

He hummed in acknowledgment, pulling her ever so slightly closer.

She continued, gathering every ounce of courage. "But, if I may be so bold, I would implore you to grant me and Quasimodo our freedom. You see, we have spoken, and I must insist that-"

A large hand clamped down on her shoulder, the familiar feeling causing her heart to stumble in her chest.

"Might I cut in?" Prince Gaston asked.

* * *

 **Sorry-not-sorry to leave it on a bit of a cliffhanger! Thanks for reading and leaving me your wonderful reviews, it absolutely makes my day!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Happy Valentine's Day! Hope your day is full of love and chocolate and all good things, unlike this chapter.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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Frollo froze, stopping mid-dance in the middle of the floor. Angry couples bounced into him, glaring at the disruption. He could only stare as the Crown Prince, the one person he was instructed to keep Belle away from, took that very same lady out into the throng of couples to dance.

Fear, anger, and not a little jealously swarmed to take control of him. He hadn't even processed what she had asked him, but he had seen the wood shaving tumble off her skirt when she entered the carriage. He had decided to be benevolent, and let the matter pass. After all, it was a small manor, and if she happened to visit Quasimodo on occasion it was no concern of his.

He did not see Quasimodo as competition for her affections, since he was little more than a talking animal in Frollo's mind, rightful heir or not. He did not even see their marriage as legally binding, since it never technically happened. The King had sent him the contract ages ago, and the girl had already bewitched him thoroughly by that point. So, instead of having Quasimodo sign it as per the King's instruction, he threw the contract in the fire. He was hoping to tell her tonight, in fact, and relieve her of her honor bond to his ward. Then, perhaps, her affections would be placed elsewhere…

But no, she was dancing with the very dauphin she was sent to avoid, she had asked for her freedom _as well as Quasimodo's_ , and his plans were unraveling before his eyes. He must find the King at once and explain before he found out from some other source, and then he would take care of the girl.

"How lucky am I to find you here of all places tonight. And how do you find the Rhineland, mademoiselle?"

Belle said a quick prayer of thanks mentally for Lady Girardeau and her warning. "It is dull, your Majesty, but of course nothing could compare to the splendor of Versailles or Pairs."

She struggled to dance gracefully in his vcie-like grip. He was leering at her, but his eyes were cold and glassy. It was not a look that bode well for the night ahead.

"Hmm. And how did you come to be in Paris?"

She gulped. "I was sent away to a dilapidated manor, under the care of a minister in the court of justice. He's a very kind old man really," the lie curdling on her tongue, "and in the spirit of Christmas, extended the invitation to me."

The Prince looked dubious, but he chose not to continue the course of conversation. They continued to dance in silence, Belle trying not to grimace as his hard grip bruised her wrist. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "You can still make it up to me, you know. I'm nothing if not forgiving, especially if someone wears a dress like that and would _properly_ apologize. I'm open to begging too."

She could feel the curl of his lips against her ear.

Sounds started to get foggy, and her heart pounded as if it would carry out Belle's wish to flee all by itself, leaving her cold body behind.

Once more though, an unexpected savior flounced in at the right moment.

"My dauphin, why who have you found!" Belle's mother caught in, smiling graciously at the pair. They stopped dancing, and her mama threaded her arm through her daughter's. "What an unexpected, delightful surprise! Doesn't my daughter look lovely, Gaston?"

 _Gaston?_ She was using his Christian name? Just how close was she to the royal family now? The prince smiled almost pleasantly and bowed, saying "But of course, she obviously inherited much from you, madame."

Her mother giggled quite girlishly, and said "If you will excuse us, my prince, I must steal away and catch up with my daughter. Naughty girl, neglecting to write your maman!"

To any outside observer, they looked as congenial as a mother and daughter should be. Yet Belle could feel her mother's nails digging into her arm, and her hurried pace almost dragging Belle behind her. They reached an abandoned balcony, and once outside shut the doors firmly behind her. Belle gratefully breathed in the crisp night air, bracing her arms around herself.

Without turning to face Belle, her mama gritted out "You _imbecile."_

Before Belle could get a word out besides stammering, her mother was in front of her and Belle's head snapped as her mother slapped her. She then grabbed her chin, holding Belle's face rigidly in place.

"Once more you seek to destroy all the hard work I've put towards your well-being," she spat, "and defy me in the most spectacular ways you can think of. You were sent away for your own good, and here I find you flouncing around Paris like you own it. I'm disgusted by you, that you even had the gall to crawl out of my womb."

Tears streaked Belle's face, making the powder run in rivulets. Words, the thing she held so dear both in books and in her mind, failed her, and she could only stare mutely back.

Her maman stared back, her eyes both beseeching and dead. She threw Belle's face away, and walked away.

"Either you beg your way back into the Prince's good graces, or you leave. I care not what happens to you after that."

She was at the doors when Belle said softly "And this is a mother's love? Thank you for making it so clear to me again where your priorities lie. You shall not see me again, of that I can assure you."

Her maman tensed, and Belle thought she might have turned around if this were a bed time story, but she knew better. Instead, she straightened and walked out the door. Belle could see her gliding towards the King, who was holding up a champagne flute and gathering the crowd's attention. Her view was cut off, however, as Frollo swooped into the doorway.

"Ah, there you are. I fear we must leave at once, come along."

Belle hurried through the door and past the crowds, keeping her head down and sticking to the back walls as Frollo trailed behind. She only caught part of what the King was saying to the enraptured audience of nobles.

"-will not reach Paris or Versailles, I assure you all. These past two decades have been some of the hardest our kingdom has faced, but we have championed through and will continue to do so into the next millennium! To accomplish this though, your assistance-"

They were out the door in a few moments, Belle taking a brief pause to wipe her face with her handkerchief. Victor was already waiting with the carriage, the horses pawing at the ground and eager to leave. Some of the other carriage drivers were smoking pipes in a corner and watched them, muttering gossip under their breath.

Belle stumbled in, tripping over her skirts, and she let out a little cry as her hands slammed down onto the carriage floor. She heard Frollo grunt behind her and Victor shift, but she squeezed her eyes shut and pulled herself up, slumping into one of the seats. Frollo entered behind her, and she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.

They were riding for a while before Frollo spoke.

"I do not know what transpired between you and that woman, but I must thank you removing yourself so as not to cause a scene. As to your request…"

Belle straightened her back, and finally looked at him, though she could not make out his features in the shadows.

"I do not know what passion overwhelmed you, but you know that is not a possibility. At least, not for Quasimodo. _You,_ on the other hand…I have a proposition for you. You see, I quite enjoy your presence, and you fit in well into our little household." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "You would have your freedom with me. Let me make you mine, Belle."

Belle flinched away, cramming herself into the other side of the small carriage. "Sir, I -"

He took her hand in his. "I burned the contract. You are not a married woman, Belle. You're no longer chained, but you can be safe with me. I can protect you from the coming pestilence and wrath of God. Obey me, love me, and I will be your slave."

Belle was overwhelmed. From the ball, from her mother, from the Prince, and now Frollo. Her corset bit in too tightly, and she was breathing rapidly, trying to find air in the stuffy carriage and failing. So, her body did what it could to ease her suffering, and she fainted.

"Belle?...Belle?"

It took a few moment for Frollo to realize that she had fainted. She seemed peaceful enough, so he meant to leave her alone. However, the ribbon that had wound around her neck as a choker in lieu of finer jewelry had come loose, and he couldn't help but reach over to smooth her hair away and pull the ribbon free.

When Belle awoke, they were already back to the Manor house. Someone was carrying her. At first, she thought it was Quasimodo, and she wanted desperately to nestle into his arms. But the arms holding her were too thin, too long. The clothing was black, not green and soft. Frollo leaned down and whispered softly in her ear, "Think about my proposal, ma Cherie." He set her down on her feet, brushed her cheek with his chapped lips, and left.

She spent the next few hours emptying the contents of her stomach into her chamber pot.

In his private rooms, Frollo stood by the fire, his breath coming in pants. He wound the ribbon through his hands, twisting it, and bringing it up to caress his face.

"How she scorches my soul…I feel her…she's blazing me out of all control…"

He stared at the flames, and it was almost as he saw her dancing in the flames, the image of her swirling in her sunlight gown, trapped in his fireplace.

"Like fire. _Hellfire_." He realized that the burning in his skin, the desire that had coursed through his veins almost since the beginning, it was turning him to _sin._

Suddenly he felt all the saints pressing in close, condemning him for his gross desires. He fell to his knees, and trembled before the hearth. Not knowing what else to do, he threw the ribbon in, and watched it spark and disintegrate.

"Protect me, Maria. Don't let her fire seer my blood and soul… let her taste the fire of hell or else let her be mine and mine alone."

She _would be his_. No other had a claim.

He suddenly felt empty, as if his soul had fled with his vow, only to return if it reached completion.

"God have mercy on her…God have mercy on me…."

But she would be his, or she would burn.

* * *

 **The tension! The drama! I feel like this could make a good soap opera XD (also there's a nod to Jim Henson's Labyrinth if you can find it) Review?**


	20. Chapter 20

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo. Enjoy this next chapter!**

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The morning after the ball, Belle stayed groggily in bed for most of the morning and into the afternoon, a cool compress resting on her forehead. Laverne had said it was a hangover, but Belle knew the true cause of her ailment, and it had nothing to do with champagne.

Could she accept Frollo's proposal? The very thought made her want to vomit again. But if she did marry him, could she free Quasimodo somehow?

But she knew, deep down, that she would die before she accepted Frollo. He was on the same level of evil as Prince Gaston, of that she was sure.

Maybe she and Quasi could run away…she had been thinking about that possibility for a while. When she was feeling more positive she could see how it would all work out, how they could remove themselves from France and live comfortably, Belle selling Quasi's creations at market to buy food and so forth. Thinking of a life together with him...it left her feeling warm and content, and caused a pleasant fluttering sensations to flit through her nerves.

On the other hand, maybe Frollo had a point keeping Quasi locked away for his own good. What would the outside world do to him? Esmeralda and the Archdeacon, as well as the servants, they all seemed to accept and love him to a degree, but the rope burns and bruises Quasimodo wore when they had first met did little to convince her he could ever be free.

She decided that enough was enough. Beguiling Frollo had backfired horribly, so running away may be their only option. No matter what, she decided, she would not abandon Quasimodo.

Dressing slowly in a comfortable day dress and tying back her hair, she tiptoed out of her room, and as quietly as possible made her way towards the West Wing.

When she knocked tentatively on the door, Quasi was already sitting at his workbench, a new figurine half painted in front of him.

"Belle! I was hoping to see you…you look awful though, I mean I'm sorry, but are you well? Please, take a seat."

He jumped up and ushered her across the room, gently guiding her to the bed, and sat down next to her. He was close enough that he could easily reach and hold her if he wanted, but enough that he wouldn't crowd her.

Belle was about to speak and lay out her plans, but her eyes caught on the figurine. "You painted me." She said, her voice filled with quiet wonder.

Quasi blushed. "I…I wanted to capture how happy and…beautiful you were…um…"

Belle stood and crossed over to the workbench, gingerly picking up the figurine. Quasi had captured her perfectly, even detailing tiny flecks in her eyes. Truly, in this version of herself, she was gorgeous. Is this how Quasimodo saw her?

She clutched the figurine tightly. "Quasimodo, there's something I need to tell you. It's about Frollo, and…and leaving here.

Quasi's heart fell. He walked over to her, and sat down on the bench, staring down at his hands. He had known she would come to her senses eventually, and he had tried ot mentally prepare himself to let her go. Now that the time was here, he wasn't sure he could.

"I understand, at least part of it I think. I don't blame you for wanting to leave. And if that is the case…there's something I should tell you too."

He had been thinking about it since she left for the ball, throughout the whole night. Torn between his own selfish desire to have someone forced to be with him and honesty, he debated whether or not to tell Belle. Eventually, he had decided that he ought to tell Belle the truth about their marriage.

"I spoke with the Archdeacon about…us. He said that, at least in the eyes of the Church, we're not married, especially since I didn't sign the contract."

Belle's eyes widened in shock, but after a few second her expression fell. "Frollo actually admitted he burned the papers. That's why he says he can…well, he proposed to me." She visibly cringed, and Quasimodo blanched. She continued hurriedly before he had a chance to comment. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure even the Church or Frollo can argue against the King, even if there isn't a physical contract anymore, so, there is that, and I think personally that-"

Quasimodo turned sharply to her. "The King? What does the King have to do with this?"

"He signed the contract for you as a witness, as you're his ward? Unless there's another man named Quasimodo I married in this manor?"

His face went white. "I…I never knew…who…but… _how?_ "

Belle had realized she may have said something she wasn't supposed to say. For some reason her words had caused him distress, and that was the last thing she wanted to do after all they had been through together.

"Quasimodo? Is everything alright?"

He steadied himself on the table in front of it, gripping it so hard his knuckles went white. Thousands of thoughts flew through his head, but one thing was clear.

"Belle, you have to leave."

"What? I couldn't possibly do that without you."

He blocked her words out. "No, listen to me. If you refuse Frollo, I fear for your safety. You saw how he pursued Esmeralda, he'll do even worse to you. Belle, I…care for you too much to let that happen. I helped Esmeralda escape Notre Dame, and I can help you escape too."

She looked shocked, perplexed, and perhaps a bit wistful. "But, where would I go?"

He paced the length of the room, wracking his brain for potential possibilities. Notre Dame was out of the question, that would be the first place Frollo looked. He didn't know Paris well enough for other safe locations. Then he remembered Esmeralda, and their escape not so long ago.

"Esmeralda gave me a map to find the gypsies." He pulled on the twine around his neck, and pulled out the talisman. "We could contact Captain Phoebus, and he can guide you safely through the city at night. I can get word to him through the Archdeacon and you can leave as soon as tonight I think, and stay the night at Notre Dame."

Belle put a hand on his arm, and he met her eyes. Her look of concern almost broke his heart.

"Quasi, what's all this about the King? You seem so distressed…and I wouldn't want to leave you alone here. Please, come with me! We…we can make a life, free to follow our own adventures. We can go to Germany, or Belgium, or the Orient, anywhere you like! Please, Quasi…I can't just leave you here. We should escape together while we have the chance!"

He sighed, and covered her hand with his. "There's a conversation that's been long coming, and I fear it will incur Frollo's wrath. I can handle it though. With you away, you'll be safe, and you can live out all those adventures we read about. I'll follow you if I can, and hopefully we'll see each other someday." Quasi knew it was a lie, but it took away some of Belle's tension. His heart clenched and the thought that she wanted him to come with her, but he knew she would be safer if he stayed.

Quasimodo wrenched himself away. "I must contact the Archdeacon. Gather any belongings you would wish to take with you." He reached down and picked up the figurine, turning it over in his hands. "Please, go now. And take this…so you'll always have something to remember me by."

He pressed it into her hands, and looked away. Belle stood, turning away and then stopped. Wordlessly, she reached out and cupped his cheek, gently tilting his head to look at her. As their eyes met, she gave him a half-smile, and turned to leave. Quasi reached out, as if he would hold her there for just a second longer, but she was already out of his reach. Victor stood in the doorway, a look of shock plastered to his face, and he shot Quasi a panicked, questioning look.

As Quasi stood there, another petal fell form the rose, and the last two clinging to the stem swayed in the winter breeze.

"What have you done?" Victor breathed.

Quasi turned away. "I let her go. She needs to get away from here, for her own protection. Tell Laverne and Hugo, we must do everything we can to get her out of here as soon as possible. Frollo…how much did you hear?"

"Enough." Victor grunted. "But _why?_ You were so close to winning her heart, couldn't you have gone with her? Why must you stay here?"

"Because I need to stay, to give her some time and to clarify some things, and because…because I love her. I would rather she live happy and free than bear that burden."

Belle ran to her rooms, quickly throwing on a traveling cloak and gathering a few items, stuffing them into the satchel she had originally brought form her home. She heard a noise, and froze, turning to the doorway.

Laverne stood there, tears streaking her face and a pack of food held limply against her chest. Belle flew to her, and embraced her. They clung together for a moment, and then Laverne pushed the pack her way.

"Things are in motion that are out of either of our control, dearie. It's for the best, but if you ever need a warm place to rest your head, you know where to find us." She sniffled, and looked up at Belle. "I had hoped…but it's no use anymore. Quasi wants you safe and away from the manor, so we'll protect you too. Make haste now, don't look back!"

She ushered her all the way to the stables where Hugo was already saddling Phillipe. She hugged the rowdy manservant, who was uncharacteristically silent. Then she hopped up on to her horse, and trampled towards the gates, where Victor was waiting with them already swung wide open for her. She nodded in thanks as she passed, and then urged her horse forward and faster as they made their way into the forest and towards the gleaming lights of Paris.

Quasi, who had already sent off his note to the Archdeacon and had just returned, raced up the staircases and opened the trap door that let out onto the roof. He clung to one of the chimneys, and watched as Belle's bright blue cloak swirled around her as she rode into the forest. He stayed there until he could see her no more, and a little after that too.

His shoulder slumped, and then he straightened. It was time he had a talk with Frollo.

* * *

 **Let the drama continue! This story is already soooo much longer than I thought it would be, but I promise things will wrap up nicely eventually. Leave a review and let me know what you think!**


	21. Chapter 21

**DISCLAIMER: *sigh* I wish I could say that I came up with these beautiful stories, but I can't. Everything belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

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Belle felt a little odd, coming upon Notre Dame in the middle of the night alone, and from the front doors too. She was used to using their little passageway, or the awful mornings attending mass with Frollo. Now she pulled Phillippe to a stop as the kindly Archdeacon waited on the steps with a lantern in hand.

"My good mademoiselle, it is a pleasure to see you, though how I wish it was under different circumstances."

Belle landed on the pavement with a jolt, and led the horse towards the steps. "I do as well, Father. But I am glad to see you too."

He nodded and smiled a little. "Quasimodo said you had a map to a safe haven?"

Belle pulled out the necklace with the talisman on the end. "I believe so, at least the gypsy Esmeralda said it was a map. I haven't had a chance to look at it."

"Captain Phoebus should be here shortly to escort you as well, I sent word to him as soon as I could."

As if he had been summoned, the captain of the guard rounded the corner and quickly walked their way with his horse in tow.

"Holy Father, mademoiselle." He nodded to each of them, pulled back the hood of his cloak.

The Archdeacon nodded. "Good, now that we're all here, let's see if we can decipher the map."

He pulled the lantern closer, and Belle held the talisman up to the light. It was a small woven charm, with beads and colored string woven in at specific places. Phoebus took it and examined it up close. "Looks to be some sort of code, maybe Arabic, or Ancient Greek, or…"

"No no no, it's a map, dear boy." The Archdeacon took it and rested it in the palm of his hand. "See, here in the center is Notre Dame, and here are the rivers that run through the city. This location here to the east must be her location."

Phoebus took the map back and said "I'll ride that way with the mademoiselle, and see if we can find anything." Belle nodded in agreement.

The Archdeacon raised his hands and blessed them both. "God works in mysterious ways, my children. Go safely and with haste, I fear the troubles for us all have only just begun. I will send word to Quasimodo once you're safe, mademoiselle. Captain, please return and see me before reporting to Frollo if you can, or send word of what has happened this night. I feel a shadow creeping over my soul, and I do not want to think about what that forebodes."

Belle felt herself shiver a bit at the Holy Father's words, but helped herself up onto Phillippe and followed the captain into the dark streets of the city.

* * *

Quasi made his way towards Frollo's rooms, each step thudding in time to his pulse. _The King was his generous benefactor?_ How had that come to be? He didn't doubt Belle's words, and she had come from Court, but it just didn't make sense.

He was before Frollo's door before he knew it. Quasi let his fist fall on the door three times, and Frollo's muffled voice yelled "Enter."

Quasimodo opened the door, and shut it quietly behind him.

"Ahh, Quasimodo, my boy, what fortunate timing. I was just preparing to sit down for a light meal, why don't you join me and we can review your scriptures and alphabet before the night is past?"

Quasimodo hurried over to the table, still not trusting himself to speak. He sat down, and stared at the table.

Frollo quirked an eyebrow. "Is there something troubling you, Quasimodo?

"Oh no, no…"

"Oh, but there is. I know there is."

Frollo was only waiting to hear that the boy had feelings for the girl, and he sat back in his chair patiently. He had already formulated a speech to make sure the creature would never see a future there. It was impossible.

He said "I think you're hiding something," while at the same time Quasi blurted out "When were you going to tell me the King was my guardian? _Your_ employer?"

Frollo blanched and visibly started. Then he sneered down at Quasimodo.

"The girl slipped, did she? No matter, she will soon be silenced one way or another."

Quasi's back straightened, and he looked Frollo in the eye. Belle had given him so much strength in the short time he had known her, and he felt for the first time he stood on equal ground. Monster or not, he had people who cared about him, and no matter how much power Frollo held, Quasi was stronger in spirit.

"You won't."

"Come again?"

"You won't get her. She's gone."

He paused, then said "She's _WHAT?"_ Frollo swiped the papers off of his desk and loomed over the hunchback. His hand clutched Quasi's neck, making him gasp for air. "You. Let. Her. GO?"

Quasi rasped "You can't have her now, neither as your prisoner nor as your wife."

Frollo threw him across the room with a strength that surprised him. Quasimodo broke his fall against the wall, and leaned on a nearby window sill.

"You idiot, that wasn't a kindness on her part, it was cunning! She's a _woman,_ they're not capable of real love, only the corruption of sin and mortal flesh! _Think, boy!_ "

A glimmer of doubt gripped Quasi's heart, but his love was steadfast. He knew Belle, and she would never be capable of such malice.

Frollo turned away, and Quasi could hear him trying to control his breathing, and he ran his hands through his silver hair.

"But what chance could a poor, misshapen child like you have against her heathen treachery? Well, never you mind, Quasimodo, I will free me- I will free you form her evil spell."

"You won't find her, she's safe now!"

Frollo turned around, and spoke softly. "Oh, I'll find her. Even if I have to burn down all of Paris I'll find her!"

Quasi did not see the marble paperweight in his hands, and before he could reply Frollo brought it down sharply on his head and Quasi drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

As Belle and Phoebus found their way underground through the catacombs running under Paris, she couldn't help but feel watched. It was as if the shadows crept along beside them, eager to see the gypsy hideout as well.

Of course, Belle had never imagined that gypsies were actually hiding beside the long dead, so she was caught unawares when the gypsies captured her and Phoebus.

They were thrown to their knees, and the gypsies in skeleton costumes surrounded them with torches. One gypsy broke away from the wall, and chuckled. "Well well well, what have we here?"

"Trespassers!" One gypsy shouted, the rest joining in and yelling in agreement. "Spies!"

"We're not spies, we're" Phoebus started to say before he was gagged from behind. Belle started to speak, but she was similarly gagged.

The thin gypsy who appeared to be the leader tilted his head to one side, and squinted. "Wait a moment fellows, I think we have something entirely different on our hands."

He bent down to eye level with Belle, and examined her. "I remember you. I met this fine lady and her companion on the road traveling for the Feaste of Fools at the end of this past summer. She was quite hospitable as a fellow traveler, even if this bloke was the height of rudeness."

The man sniffed as if he had taken personal offense. Phoebus rolled his eyes,

"But a favor for a favor, madame! We will consider you guests for the time being and let you two explain yourselves before we hang you." He laughed merrily, and gestured to the men standing behind them to remove their gags.

"Follow me, if you will!" He lit two torches and twirled them around like juggler's batons, then yanked Belle's elbow and escorted her along through the dark passageway. Phoebus was, unfortunately, shoved impolitely behind her.

The walked for a short time before they came to the opening of a large cavern, where swaths of colorful fabric were strung across the ceiling, and there were caravans, tents, booths, and stalls as far as the eye could see, with little kitchen fires glimmering in between. Many gypsies gathered around, curious at who was being brought in and not immediately killed.

Belle spotted a stand with nooses at the ready, and audibly gulped. Esmeralda surely must have warned Quasi about the kind of reception they would get?

The thin gypsy grinned down at her, the firelight glinting off his one gold earring and a gold tooth. "Welcome, most esteemed madame, to the Court of Miracles!"

Belle could only stare in wonder, and tried not to make eye contact with the unhappy gypsies who looked like they would have rather seen her and her companion in the nooses.

"Belle! Phoebus!"

Belle turned back to the crowd, and saw Esmeralda pushing her way through, elbows flying and bells jangling as she got closer, Djali at her heels.

"Esmeralda!" Belle called back. The gypsy spotted her, and a wide grin broke out on her face. She ran up to Belle and embraced her.

"What a sight you are! When I gave Quasimodo the map I thought he might swing by, but not you. Where is he?"

"Esmeralda, I wish this were a social call, but we think I'm in danger."

It was then Phoebus cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Esmeralda saw him. A flattering blush creeped up onto her cheeks, and she walked slowly up to the captain.

He scratched the back of his neck, his own face blooming with a bit of color. "Long time no see, eh?"

Esmeralda cast him an impish look, then grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and drew him into a solid kiss. The crowd jeered good naturedly, and Belle looked away for propriety's sake.

Esmeralda broke away from the kiss with a satisfied smirk, and turned back to Belle. "Now, what's this about danger?"

* * *

Quasimodo woke up to the sound of church bells and a throbbing pain in his head. He tried to move, but found himself chained. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking out onto the streets of Paris. And it was on fire.

Frollo had said he would burn down the city to find Belle. Quasimodo hadn't thought he would be so literal about it.

What sent his stomach churning though was a pyre in front of the church, used by the judges to burn witches. A group of soldiers stood guard, and it appeared for all intents and purposes that it was going to be used that very night. He struggled against the chains, but found they wouldn't budge.

A voice spoke from the shadows. "I am sorry, my boy, but this was the only way. Soon her evil spell will be gone forever. We are already close to finding her. Her horse was spotted not far from here."

Quasi twisted his neck to see Frollo, standing beside him, looking placid enough except for a manic glow in his small eyes. After all these years, his solid composure seemed to have fled. Between the times they had spoken, something had snapped within Claude Frollo.

Frollo said "Now as to the matter of the King. Our Monarch, in all his mercy, decided to spare your miserable life when you were born and sent you to my care. I have done my duty to the best of my ability. But I will never see the crown on your head."

All the pieces were coming together. His strange upbringing, how Belle came into the picture from the Court of Versailles, all of it. He had heard rumors of a lost prince, claimed to be dead and swept away from the castle in the dead of night. The servants had chattered about it along with other gossip and conspiracy theories that he never put much stock into. Until now.

 _He was a Prince._

"The King is on his way here now. He will order your execution, and then the mistake of your birth will finally be remedied."

Quasimodo growled " _I am not a mistake."_

Frollo sniffed. "Did the girl tell you that? How foolish of you to believe her. You were always an abomination, and were never meant to be heir to the throne. You were obviously sent to the King and Queen from Satan himself. Yes, that must have been it. And soon enough, you will be sent back to the pits of hell from whence you came."

He cackled then, disturbing sound that grated against Quasimodo's ears, and swept away out of Quasi's line of vision. Once more he struggled against the chains, then slumped down to his knees. His head was reeling from the revelations, but his heart was breaking at two thoughts. One, that Belle would be caught, and he would have to watch her die. The second, that he would never have the chance to tell her how he truly felt.

 _God,_ he prayed, _oh God, let her be safe. Do anything to me, take my life if that's what you want, but protect her._ That's all that mattered to him, now that he was facing the end. Not his own life, not the fact that he was a prince jilted from his birthright, none of that.

It was only, and always, Belle.

As he started to weep and Pairs continued to burn, the second to last petal fell from the Enchanted Rose.

* * *

 **Gah! I can't begin to tell you how much I enjoy writing this and how much I love seeing your reviews. Leave one and let me know what you think!**

 **Also, I should note that while some parts of this chapter may seem overtly religious, I'm trying to stay within the norms of this time period and Victor Hugo's commentary on religion as well, so just stick with me here. Thanks!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hi folks! I'm going on a bit of a break so I won't be able to update for a couple of weeks. Rest assured this tale will continue in mid-March!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Seriously. I have a mug of tea, a cardigan, and a mostly used roll of duct tape to my name. Disney and Victor Hugo own these stories.**

* * *

The King paced back and forth in the chapel. Everything was going to rot, and he knew he was to blame for most of it. _Damn that Enchantress_ , he thought, not for the first time. Now her curse had even reached Paris, and the one man he had trusted to remain steady was out of his wits, searching for the girl who could ruin everything by setting Paris on _fire_ , as if he would burn her out like some common rat.

It was no matter. Frollo had already sent word to him that his son - the creature, he reminded himself - was already locked up high above him in the Cathedral. He had written that it was probably for the best to execute the boy before more havoc erupted, especially if the creature claimed the throne.

Still though, he felt a sharp pain at the thought of the boy. He dismissed it as gout most of the time (and the doctors concurred), but this time he was sure it was guilt. He needed to speak with the boy, at least once before he gave the order, if anything to cleanse his soul.

Frollo swept in, disheveled but his eyes gleamed with triumph. "We think we have the girl within our grasp now, soon this awful mess shall be over my King."

The King sighed. "I don't see how killing a girl will solve everything in France, Claude."

Frollo frowned. "Perhaps not, but it will quiet the unrest in Paris for a time, I believe. You received my letter about the boy?"

"Of course I have, why else would you think I'd wait in this cramped dripping space?" He rubbed his temples, warding off a headache. He had little patience most of the time, and today was particularly worse than others. War at the border, famine in the land, the capital on fire - things couldn't get much worse. "I'm not sure I can do it. Filicide is frowned upon by God, you know."

Frollo glided over and placed a hand on the King's shoulder. "Sire, I am sure this creature was sent by Satan to test you. Sending it back from whence it came will bring glory to Heaven, there is no other way of looking at it."

"Let me at least speak with the boy once. I think it will soothe my soul to see what an abomination he has grown into, and I can assure myself I made the right decision all those years ago."

Frollo made a doubting noise in his throat, but acquiesced, saying "Of course, my King. Whatever you need, I am, of course, your humble servant."

The King sighed again. "At least I was blessed enough to have another son, one who can actually rule France. Could you imagine, a hunchback for a king?" He snorted. "No, of course I made the right choice. This will all soon be over."

"And thank the Lord on High for that. I believe this girl was even seducing the poor creature, and that he had developed _feelings_ for Mademoiselle Lefevre."

"Madame, you mean. The boy did technically marry her."

Frollo looked uncomfortable for a moment, enough so that the King knew he hadn't imagined it, but then he smiled and nodded. "As you requested, sire."

The King frowned a bit. He would find out what that all meant later. All that mattered was finishing up business here and then heading back to the blessed peace of Versailles.

Neither of the men had noticed a figure hidden in the alcoves by the open doorway, listening to every word that was spoken. His days of hunting lent him many skills, including hiding in plain sight.

Prince Gaston seethed with rage. He had caught enough of the conversation to put together that his father had hidden his first born son, the true heir to the throne, due to some deformity. And now suddenly he was back, ready to reclaim the throne? And he had somehow managed to capture the beautiful Mademoiselle Lefevre in the process?

No. It wouldn't do.

It sounded as if this monster was hiding or imprisoned here at the cathedral. He strung the bow he had brought with him, and quietly raced up the stairs to find this beast before his father or the minister of justice left the room.

As he rounded corridors and peered into rooms towards the top of the cathedral, he started to catch snippets of a conversation. It sounded like an argument. He slowed his steps, and listened carefully.

"…can't just let him win, Quasi! Belle is still out there!"

"These chains won't break, Victor!"

"Laverne, I wish I could go, but look at me! She wouldn't want me anyways."

"Stop that talk right now! I think she truly does care for you, Quasi, if you just had a little more time…"

"Hugo, hand me that wrench."

As he rounded the corner, he saw three older adults surrounding a misshapen lump that was chained to the pillars of an outdoor corridor of the cathedral, looking down onto the square. It appeared as if the two men were attempting to hack through the chains, while an older woman crouched down to talk with the lump.

He took a step back when the creature came into view. He wasn't some boy, he was a gargoyle, a monster. He saw now why his Father wanted him gone. It was a wonder he didn't kill the babe on sight.

He pulled back an arrow, checking his aim, and let it fly, just as the taller man shouted "I got it!" and broke the chains.

The creature howled in pain, and blood started to drip down its hunched back where the arrow had hit its mark. Gaston notched another arrow, and strode slowly towards them.

"Get away from the creature, if you please. I would hate to have innocent blood on my hands."

The trio looked at the prince and back at the hunchback. Gritting his teeth, the creature said "Leave, go. I can handle this."

They scurried away, and Gaston didn't give them a second thought. Once alone, he lowered his bow and smirked at the creature.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" he asked. The he leaped, and pushed Quasimodo through the pillars and down onto the sloping roof. The impact shoved the arrow deeper into Quasimodo's back, and he howled in pain. Gaston jumped down and walked the roof's edge to where the hunchback was crouched in pain.

"Well, _brother_ , it seems our father was very, very good at keeping secrets, but not good enough. Get up. _Get up!_ "

Gaston pushed Quasimodo again. "What's the matter, beast? You'll try to take my crown but won't fight back?"

Quasimodo had no fight left within him. He clutched his sides, and said "The crown is yours, if you are who you say you are. I want nothing of it."

"Hmph." Gaston snorted.

Quasi grimaced, but continued "I only found out about it a day or two ago, I want nothing to do with it. You're the one who fits what a prince should be, not me."

"Trying to beguile me like you did _her_ , like you did with Mademoiselle Lefevre? Did you honestly think she would want _you,_ when she could have someone like _me_?"

There was a commotion going on down in the square, but both were too preoccupied to notice.

Gaston broke off one of the carved lions that would spew rain water down from the roof and swung it like a club, advancing towards Quasimodo. "Come on and fight me then!" Gaston shouted, spittle flying. He ran and pushed Quasimodo onto another terraced corridor below. Quasimodo winced at the impact, his vision going foggy.

It was then a voice shouted from below " _QUASIMODO!_ " He looked down at the Square, and there, impossibly, was Belle, surrounded by an army of gypsies that were miraculously holding the guards back. Both the Prince and the hunchback stared in wonder at the sight below them.

The gypsies, armed with whatever they had from swords to frying pans, were somehow defeating the guards. A skinny one with a tri-corner hat merrily set the pyre on fire, dancing around it gleefully. Belle was staring up at them, flanked by Esmeralda and Phoebus on either side, and then she broke into a run towards the cathedral doors.

"Belle…?" he said in wonder. He couldn't believe it, that she would come back to find him, let alone forsake her own safety and come to the very place were Frollo wanted her publically executed. He needed to get down there before Frollo found her.

He turned back to the man, and almost growled as he pushed the man off. The prince looked surprised for a moment, then charged at him again. This time, Quasi was ready.

As Gaston swung his makeshift club down, Quasi got it, and slowly pushed him back. The muscles in his arms rippled, and Gaston faltered a bit at the sight. Quasimodo threw the club away, and was able to easy grab a hold of his neck. Quasimodo held him out over the railings, sneering into his face.

The prince scrabbled and started begging. "No, no please, no!"

He heard a gasp from the doorway of the corridor into the cathedral. Someone was slowly coming his way. His heart leaped, hoping it was Belle, but an older male voice begged "Please…please put my son down." He didn't recognize the voice. But at the same time…

Quasimodo's face softened slightly, and he pulled the Prince back into the corridor, dropping him roughly to the ground. Picking up the discarded club, he whacked the Prince soundly on the head before he could get up. The man ran from the doorway and knelt by the prince.

Quasimodo said "He's only unconscious," and he dropped the club. The King, because Quasimodo could make out the gold circlet on his head, still checked his breathing anyway.

The pain from the arrow flared again, and Quasi dropped to his knees. The King turned his head, but would not meet his eyes.

Quasimodo, panting for breath, found that he couldn't really bring himself to look at him either, or notice things like his green eyes in another, more symmetrical face.

The older man sighed. "There is no avoiding it now. I think there are some things that have come to light that I feel we should discuss."

Quasimodo grimaced. He could feel the blood pouring down his back, but he steeled himself for a worse sort of pain. "Whatever you say, _father._ "

* * *

 **Leave me a review and let me know what you think so far!**


	23. Chapter 23

**DISCLAIMER: I love both of these stories a lot, but not enough to steal them. Everything belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

* * *

Belle ran into Laverne, Hugo, and Victor almost as soon as she set foot in the cathedral, her army of gypsies behind her taking over the public square. Belle took a step back, pausing to take in the picture in front of her. The three servant each held a ceremonial item of worship almost like a weapon. Laverne looked particularly menacing, brandishing a large brass candlestick.

After a pause, they shouted "BELLE!" collectively, dropping their make-shift weapons and tackling Belle in a group hug.

Belle tried to hug them back as best they could, and as they all started speaking at once she had to ask them several times to slow down and tell her what was going on.

Laverne finally shushed the other two, and said "Here's the gist of it dearie, Quasimodo is trapped here in the place with some awful prince after him, and Frollo and the King are about as well. We're on our way to pummel that poppycock if you and your friends would like to join us!"

Belle glanced behind her. Phoebus and Esmeralda were standing on top of the pyre, calling out to the townsfolk and the gypsies to rally against Frollo, claiming he had declared war upon the church and Notre Dame herself. The amount of guards stationed in the square and around the cathedral helped their cause, and Belle was sure a melee would break out any second. Already Phoebus was lighting the pyre and handing out torches as the sun set over Paris.

"I think they'll be fine defending the outside of the cathedral for now. Did you say a prince was here? Prince Gaston?"

The three shrugged. Hugo scratched his head, and said "Big guy, black hair, chiseled features? Looks like he could cut someone with those cheekbones?"

Belle nodded and handed Laverne back her candlestick. "Then we don't have a moment to lose. Take me to him!"

In hindsight, Belle wasn't exactly sure what she thought she was doing. She had no weapon, not even a candlestick or a crucifix like her companions to possibly bludgeon an attacker. But from her limited experience with the prince and his prowess as a hunter, she found herself afraid for Quasimodo's sake.

All throughout her time with the gypsies and even before, she had come to realize she cared for Quasimodo, though that was as far as she could think before worry and anxiety for him started to overwhelm her. That anxious energy had driven her to distraction, and thankfully with aid from Esmeralda, she had rallied the gypsies into action against their oppressor, Claude Frollo.

As they ran through the corridors, hiding from guards and taking staircases two steps at a time, she just hoped she wasn't too late.

* * *

"You must understand, what I did was a mercy to you."

" _Mercy?_ You call abandonment and lies mercy?"

"Most would have killed you, you foolish boy! We didn't think you would be capable of speech, let alone have the mind of a normal man!"

Quasimodo's vision was going slightly blurry around the edges, and he gripped his arm tightly to keep himself steady. The loss of blood was starting to make his head go very light.

"Then why didn't you?"

The King huffed and looked away. "Superstitious nonsense, mostly."

Quasi hated to ask this, but he had to know. "Did you ever care for me? Even in the slightest?"

The King's cheeks reddened. "What do you think? Did I not provide for your every comfort? Did I not send you a wife? You have no _idea_ how much sleep I've lost from guilt over you these twenty years. I wish I had killed you so I could live in peace!"

Quasi cringed, but he supposed that guilt was better than nothing at all. Didn't that mean that he was sorry, deep down?

"And my mother, she thinks I'm dead?"

"Thought, yes. She unfortunately passed away a number of years ago. She would have died of shock if she had seen what had grown in her womb. I feel nauseous myself, thinking that our union created this." The King said, gesturing at Quasimodo's lame form.

"I'm sure you do, but that's no concern of mine any longer." Quasi shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable. He swayed and stopped moving. "So. Are you going to kill me now?"

The King grunted, and he pressed his lips together. He seemed to squirm in place, as if even he wasn't sure what to do.

"Quasimodo!"

They both turned, and saw Belle flanked by Laverne, Victor, and Hugo brandishing items from the cathedral as weapons.

"Belle," he breathed.

She ran over to him, and gently took his hand in hers. "Belle," he said again, wondering if the wound was starting to inflict hallucinations, "you came back."

He reached out and cupped her face with one of his hands, his fingers trailing through her silky hair. She smiled, and brought her hand up to hold his in place.

Neither of them saw Frollo approaching from the shadows on the other end of the corridor. The King made a startled sound, but it was too late. Frollo had already driven his small knife into the top of Quasi's hunched back.

"So, you both live." He sneered down at them. He swung his knife again, this time aiming straight for Belle.

Something rushed through Quasi's veins, and suddenly he didn't feel the pain any longer. All the mattered was getting Belle to safety.

He swung her up into his arms, and leapt from that railing of that corridor. Frollo, grabbing a sword from the collapsed prince's belt, jumped after them, his black cloak flapping around him.

The King gave a startled shout, and the servants all clamored to watch, Hugo accidentally kicking the unconscious prince in the head in his hurry.

Frollo landed with a thump, ignoring the ache in his knees, and stared around at the balcony. Gripping the sword tightly, he maneuvered quietly around a corner, but still he did not see them.

He arched an eyebrow, and strode over to the railing. Looking over it, above the fighting and fire in the square, he saw Quasimodo grasping a gargoyle with Belle cradled to his chest in his other hand.

"Leaving so soon?" he called, swinging the sword down to slice at them.

Quasimodo lurched and swung to grab another gargoyle, yelling at Belle over the din of the fight below them to hang on.

Again and again Frollo swung at them, cracking the gargoyles, and Quasi leaped out his way every time, grunting with the effort. Eventually they came to a corner, and as Frollo swung at them again, Quasi launched Belle as gently as he could onto the floor of the balcony. Now he stood perched on the head of a larger gargoyle, and Frollo glared down his sword at him.

"I should have known you would risk your life for that witch." He called, his eyes ablaze. "And now, I'm going to do what I should have done twenty years ago!"

He flung his cloak over Quasi's head, twisting it around his neck. Quasi cried out and stumbled back, his foot scraping the edge of the statue. He lost his footing and fell, grabbing onto the cloak and scrabbling hold anything. His hand caught around part of the balcony's railing, and he held on as tight as he could. The force of that small fall, however, was enough to topple Frollo off the balcony too, and Quasi clutched the cloak as Frollo held on with one hand, his legs dangling above the fiery square below and his sword flailing about.

Belle came running over, and grabbed Quasi's arm in both her hands, struggling to pull him up. Frollo, meanwhile, used the cloak to swing himself to another ledge. Belle grunted out "Hold on," but Quasi could feel himself slipping.

"Quasi, please, just hold on!" Belle gritted out, trying to keep him there, but her hands were sweating. She leaned as far over the balcony as she could, and slowly she felt him rise.

It wasn't enough. Frollo was already there, standing on the gargoyle ledge, his dark cloaking billowing around him. He cackled as he raised his sword towards Belle.

He raised the sword up, and yelled "AND HE SHALL SMITE THE WICKED AND PLUNGE THEM INTO THE FIERY PIT!"

A crumbling noise started, and Frollo wavered. His ledge was breaking, and he tripped and clung to it with both his arms and legs, hanging upside down. Belle watched in horror as it broke loose, and Frollo fell to his death down on to the very pyre he had built. Years later, Belle still swore she saw the gargoyle come alive like a demon, but she was never truly sure.

The others had rushed down to the balcony, and with the help of Victor, Laverne, Hugo, and surprisingly the King, they managed to hoist Quasimodo back up to the balcony. That was when they saw the state of his back.

Belle let out a gasp at the sight of all that blood, and Victor promptly fainted. While Laverne and Hugo attended the manservant, Belle and the King laid Quasimodo down as gently as they could.

Quasimodo's breaths were coming as pants, and Belle and the King flanked him on either side. Belle tentatively reached out a brushed Quasimodo's hair away from his face, and kept her hand there, caressing his cheek.

Quasimodo turned at the touch, and blearily looked up at Belle. "You - you came back." It was still the only thing he could think to say.

"Of course I came back! I couldn't let them…" Words failed her as tears started to trickle down her cheeks, and she reached down to embrace Quasimodo. "If only I had gotten here sooner…"

"This is all my fault."

Belle and Quasimodo turned and looked at the King. He continued "If…if I had been a different man, a better man…things wouldn't have ended like this."

Quasimodo met his eyes for a moment, and breathed "Maybe…maybe it's better this way…"

Belle sat up a bit. "Don't talk like that. You'll be alright. We're together now…everything is going to be fine, you'll see." She hated how her words came out strained through her tears, but she wanted so desperately to convince herself.

Quasimodo reached out a shaky hand, and brought it to cup her face. "At least I got to see you…one last time…" Belle held his hand there, and turned her face to his palm.

Quasimodo found it harder and harder to breathe, but there was one last thing he needed to do. He turned towards the King, and was struck that he saw tears in the corners of his father's eyes.

"My son, I…I…."

Quasimodo gave him a half smile. "It's…it's alright, father…I forgive you…"

The last words came out on a sigh, and Belle felt his hand slump in her grasp. The King took off his crown, staring off into the horizon.

Belle cried out, shaking her head. "No. No no no no….please, _please_ don't leave me!" She flung herself across his body, holding him one last time. She clutched the fabric of his shirt, her head resting just under his chin, and finally whispered the words she that had terrified her for so long.

"I love you."

Back in the West Wing, the draped silks swayed in the breeze, and the last petal fell from the rose. As the dusky pink petal landed, it sent out a spark of magic. People later on would tell of the glorious shower of shooting stars arching over Notre Dame that night, calling it the Return of God's Blessing. Winter crops flourished from nothing as if spring had suddenly come, armies retreated back their own countries, and wells sprang back to life all across France.

Up on a balcony of Notre Dame, the small group assembled around the body of a hunchback didn't take much notice of the showers of stars above their heads. Not until they landed, with a sound like the tinkling of the small bells in Notre Dame, all around their beloved Quasimodo.

Belle in particular paid no mind, still heaving sobs and clutching Quasimodo's shirt, willing him to come back to life. She only looked up when steam started to rise around her, and Quasimodo's body lifted into the air.

They all looked on in wonder, witnessing the splendor as Quasimodo's body was surrounded by light. Most of them thought that heaven was claiming him as an angel, but the King knew the Enchantress's work when he saw it. Suddenly there was a blinding flash, and they all had to look away.

Within that flash, time seemed to slow for the semi-conscious Quasimodo. A quiet voice whispered into his mind, _I have healed you, Quasimodo. The curse is broken._

"Who are you?"

 _I made a promise to you a long time ago, and you have fulfilled your part. You are pure of heart, and forgave the man who wronged you._

"But what you said...it wasn't Belle?"

 _No. And yes. She was a happy accident, one that I am very grateful for. The curse only affected you and your father, and now you are free. You are no longer bound to this form._

"What - what do you mean?"

 _I can make you whole. Handsome. The man you should have been. If that is what you wish._

"But I…I wouldn't know myself, I don't want to wake up from this dream a stranger to myself, and especially not a stranger to Belle."

 _Then what would you have me do?_

Quasimodo made his choice.

* * *

 **Thanks for your commentary and continuing support, it means the world to me! We'll see what happens to our beloved Quasimodo in the next chapter.**


	24. Chapter 24: Epilogue

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything (including my soul) belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

* * *

Belle sat, looking out the window of her rented room, and fiddled with the old family ring on her finger. It was still early, and the sun had yet to rise.

She had one more dream that night. She was back in her Papa's workshop, where she had spent so many restless nights throughout her stay at Frollo's manor house. This time though, he handed her a real rose, still wet with dew, and he kissed her gently on her forehead, saying "I'm so proud of you, _ma petite belle_."

She knew deep down that it was the last dream of its kind.

Someone knocked softly on her door. She turned her head, and Esmeralda and Laverne entered the room, Djali happily trotting behind.

"I told you she would already be awake!" Laverne said, hobbling over and hugging Belle. Belle returned the hug, smiling delicately.

"We've had the cook prepare you an early breakfast, its waiting downstairs for you."

"Can you even eat dearie? No matter, you still want to have something in your stomach. Can't have you fainting at the altar!"

It was, after all, her wedding day.

Belle nodded, and joined the ladies for croissants with tea and jam. Afterwards, Laverne bustled Belle in and out of different rooms, from a long bath to fixing her hair and face. It felt almost like getting ready for the Christmas ball all over again, but at least this time she had Esmeralda to keep her entertained with stories and jokes.

Laverne spent week working on the dress, and boasted it was her best design yet. As Esmeralda and Laverne pulled her into it, Belle couldn't help but agree. It wasn't nearly as voluminous as fashionable dresses most woman wore, but flared out nicely from her cinched waist, whispering softly on the floor. Roses embroidered in gold thread decorated the bottom of her cream skirts, and the satin top of the dress came down to half sleeves with lace fringe. It was a dress fit for a princess.

Esmeralda had found (she insisted she didn't steal it) a circlet of gold, and placed it on top of Belle's twisted up hair, holding the veil in place. She glanced at herself in the mirror, not really processing anything. All she could think about was him.

Clopin, the gypsy ringleader, had assembled a small band to accompany them to the cathedral. Once out of the public house, Esmeralda and Laverne escorted her on either side, and in a merry procession they assembly made their way to Notre Dame in the early spring light.

They had decided that Belle and the ladies should rent a room close to the Cathedral, while the men would take the tunnel to the church. After Quasimodo had refused the King's offer to claim the throne, the King had generously let them keep the manor for themselves.

"Think of it as an early wedding present," he had said with a wink.

He couldn't come, of course, but sent his fond regards and promised to fund whatever lavish honeymoon the couple desired, and to visit as often as he could. Belle could tell this meant a lot to Quasimodo, but she secretly doubted how well the King would keep his promises.

That left Gaston to take the throne, but Belle wasn't as concerned as she once was. His head injury caused memory lapses, according to a letter from Lady Girardeau, so while he was as awful as ever, his advisors would probably run the country when the time came.

Soon, almost too soon, they were at the doors of the cathedral. Two deacons opened the doors on either side, welcoming them in. The gypsy band went on ahead, their pipes and drums echoing over again and again in the vast marble room. Laverne followed after giving Belle a peck on the cheek, sighing happily, and then it was just Belle and Esmeralda.

The gypsy nudged her. "Nervous?"

"I feel as if I'm either going to lose my breakfast or all the butterflies in my stomach are going to explode out of me. Either way it won't be pretty."

Esmeralda laughed. "Oh come on, he isn't that bad!"

"It's not him, it's just…all those people staring…I know we tried to keep it as small as possible but there are just random strangers wandering around in here…maybe we should have done it somewhere else."

"Nowhere else would have meant as much though, right?"

Belle sighed. "I suppose."

"Just keep your eyes on Quasimodo. You'll be fine."

The troupe started playing a different tune, a wedding march, and with a last hug Esmeralda led the way, tossing apple blossom petals and goldenrod to line the way for Belle.

She took small steps, trying to keep her head high. She kept her eyes on her feet, making sure she was walking in a straight line. She felt more than saw the assembled audience rise to their feet, and she finally gathered the courage to look at her groom.

There he was, standing by the Archdeacon in new suit, Phoebus in full uniform on his left, a teary-eyed Victor and Hugo standing to the side. Their eyes met, and Belle felt a wave of relief as the rest of the world faded away.

She was still getting used to his new appearance. No, he wasn't the handsome prince out of a storybook - in her eyes, he was better than that. Although the transformation was drastic, he still looked like himself in some way. His hunch was mostly gone, and his strong legs were straight instead of bowed. His face was more even, not quite as squished or stretched, but he still had his big button nose.

He had admitted to her that he had asked the Enchantress to just heal him, not give him a new face. He thought she was a little generous where that was concerned, but he didn't really mind. He still had a bit of an overbite, his hands were still rough and large, and his face was best described as "craggy," but he loved it all the same.

Belle's favorite thing was catching Quasimodo looking at himself in mirrors around the manor, or him awkwardly bumping into objects, unused to his new height. True, he was only as tall as Belle now, but he still marveled at his new body.

When he had first transformed on that terrace a few levels above them now, he spent the first few moments examining his new body, gaping as he took in his legs, his back, his face, touching everything. Then he had turned to her, standing straight for the first time in his life, and he smiled at her with so much surprise and joy she felt like she could burst into tears all over again.

"Belle…it's me!"

She had walked cautiously up to him, and gently cupped his face, staring into his eyes and not speaking. She honestly couldn't think of anything to say. He stared back with so much hope in those same pine green eyes she had come to love so well.

"It is you…Quasimodo, how-?"

But she never got to finish the question, as he swept her up into a kiss, as sure and secure as an embrace. He was tired of hesitation, and promptly asked her to marry him once they broke apart.

As winter thawed into spring, their friends made preparations for a real wedding. After all, between the King and Frollo a real marriage never took place, and everyone agreed it was high time to fix that little mistake. And now, Belle was gliding down the aisle, smiling at the man she loved best in the world.

She finally reached the altar, and Quasimodo held out his hand. She gently placed hers in his, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"You look beautiful."

"So do you" she replied, smiling and releasing his hand. As the Archdeacon began to chant in Latin, the two kneeled in front of the altar, eyes cast downwards as the prayers and psalms floated through the air.

For Belle, the ceremony continued in a blur, and all she focused on was Quasimodo's warmth beside her. Towards the end of it all, she heard two sets of feet running up the stairs, and as they rose for the first authentic time as husband and wife, Victor and Hugo rang the bells as loudly as they could, scattering pigeons and doves in the rafters.

The newlyweds invited the entire wedding party, including as many gypsies as possible, to a wedding feast back at the manor. As the food came and went and the drinks flowed, Esmeralda, Phoebus, and the servants all shared different parts of the couple's tale, sometimes shouting over each other. Clopin would interject slurred commentary whenever a part wasn't quite to his liking, making little changes to the story that made everyone holler with mirth.

Everyone was laughing merrily and enjoying themselves thoroughly, and every once in a while Belle and Quasi's eyes met and they started smiling ridiculously all over again, both hardly believing their luck. Neither had hoped that their story would have such a happy ending.

As the night wore on, Esmeralda and Phoebus started to usher people out and back to the city to give Belle and Quasi some privacy as they made their exit to the West Wing.

When Belle woke up the next morning, snuggly wrapped in Quasimodo's arms, she turned to face him and study his sleeping face. It was most definitely still his face, but maybe how it should have been, before kings and curses and spells. Tentatively, she traced his features, taking in as many details as she could.

"Are you memorizing me?" he said softly, his eyes still closed.

"No…I already have you memorized by heart." She closed the distance and kissed him gently. "Good morning."

He clasped her hand in his, and kissed her palm. "Good morning, my love. So, what now?" He stretched and then leaned on one elbow, looking out the window. "We can go anywhere, live out whatever story we like. Go face pirates in the Mediterranean, see the wonders of the New World…we can go anywhere now! _I_ can go anywhere now! All you have to do is say the word and we'll go."

Belle paused and thought for a moment. "I think I thought of about 17 different lives for us when we were still trapped here, and I just don't think any of them will do now. You've been given a new chance at life, and in a way I have too. When I thought you had died, and didn't know how I was going to go on with my life. Now that you're here, I couldn't care less about what you look like or what we could do, all I want is to stay here in your arms forever." His expression melted a little, and he wrapped her back in his arms, stroking her hair.

She listened to his heartbeat, returning his embrace, and said "We get to imagine our own story together now, right? And I think that will do just fine for now."

 _The End_

* * *

 **Wow wow wow! I can't believe it's finally over, I have many feelings and they're too numerous to express here. _Thank You_ though, to each and every one of you for reading and following along, despite typos, despite the long waits in between chapters, and despite me probably making this more convoluted than it needed to be. You all are wonderful and I hope you receive all the happy endings you could wish for, even if they aren't quite how you imagined them ;)**


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